


the boy in the wall and the man with the gun

by giraffingallday



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Don’t talk to me about this, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, but if anyone else has read my fics they know this is most likely a lie, idek what tags to put so imma keep it vague and the summary will let u know, im posting it but I’m embarrassed about it, now listen I’m gonna put
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:01:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27067558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffingallday/pseuds/giraffingallday
Summary: “How long have you been in there?”Spencer’s eyes furrowed for a moment while he considered the question, “I’m not sure exactly, I read about measurements of time but I’ve never owned a calendar or a clock.”Morgan blinked at his response, looking at Hotch, who was feeling just as confused, “Can you guess?”“Based on how many times I’ve seen the sun rise and set, divided by the days in a calendar year… that would be- oh, it’s a continuous decimal, how many decimal points did you want?”Hotch couldn’t help but chuckle, “Do you have a calculator in there?”“Yes, it’s under my bed, do you need it?”—Aaron Hotchner meets Spencer Reid the day he finds him in the wall he’s been locked away in for twenty-five years, but who saves who?
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid
Comments: 69
Kudos: 231





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> I truly from the bottom of my heart do not know how I got so deeply invested in criminal minds that I’m writing fan fiction but here we go
> 
> There’s always a pretty good chance my chaptered stories won’t be finished, so sorry about that

Hotch did not like cults. He didn’t like learning their methods, he didn’t like examining their crime scenes, and he  _ hated  _ trying to interrogate the brainwashed victims.

The BAU had been called in for a case surrounding a cult that brainwashed abused or neglected children into joining their ‘family’, all they had to do was kill the family they had before to prove their loyalty. The very idea made Hotch sick to his stomach, even more so knowing that while the younger children would be handed to social services, the older members - some of whom were already in their early 30’s - had to be questioned before they were sent off to counselling and medical treatment; they had be coerced into committing abductions too.

The leader of the group was a woman in her 60’s, she’d been stealing kids, never older than ten years old, brainwashing them for a year, then sending them back home with a weapon; only to be recollected later when the job was done. She’d been successful for twenty-five years before one of her recruits failed to follow through and the FBI was left with the gruesome crime scene of a murder half completed and a younger sister that held as a witness. The case file contained a quote from the girl about the things she saw and survived at the hands of her seven year old brother, the way he tried to get her to help him in hopes of her life being spared; Hotch got sick in his trash can.

He was just finished cleaning it in the men’s bathroom - he had enough decency not to leave it for the cleaning staff - when he ran into Morgan, “Hey man, we were looking for you. The twenty-two year old just cracked. She said ‘Mother’ made them kill their families to break their attachment to them - and only convinced them to do it because she claimed she killed her own son.”

That was news. “We need to find that body.” They had her flat out on kidnapping, but murder was a trickier conviction when their faithfull leader wasn’t even present for the act. Killing her son meant they had her for good. He started towards the interrogation room they were keeping Diana Reid without a second thought, and Morgan rushed over to catch his shoulder.

“Easy, Hotch, we don’t have any proof.”

Hotch shrugged him off and open the door, only looking back at Morgan long enough to growl out an order, “Then get some.”

Inside, he was face to face with her, and grateful for the experience that stopped him from shivering in her calm presence, “Diana, I want you to tell me about your son.” She didn’t look at him, but her face twitched at the mention of her son, Hotch sighed, “Mother. I need to know what happened to your son.”

She smiled, her expression far away, “I have lots of sons, and I love them all dearly.” She shook her head, a frown growing on her face, “You want to take them from me.”

He knew the woman, clearly unwell, was lost in a delusion. He knew he wouldn’t get anything from her if he didn’t play into it, “No one wants to hurt your children. We want to know about your other son, the one that passed.” He bought into her emotional attachment to the situation, pulling grief into his voice, it seemed to get a reaction from her.

“He’s  _ not _ dead, he’s safe. I kept him safe.” The grief in her voice was nearly tangible, it took Hotch off guard to hear how fresh it sounded when she continued, as though it was a new loss, “Now  _ you’ve _ taken me from him and he’s in  _ danger _ .”

Hotch was done playing games, “No. The only ones in danger are there because  _ you _ put them there. Tell me where his body is.”   
  


Diana jerked in her cuffs, banging her knee on the table and shaking her head, “He’s not dead. He’s  _ not _ dead! I kept him  _ safe _ !”

Hotch left to the room, pointing to the first person he saw, “Get a doctor in there, we’re not getting anything out of her.” Then he went to the conference room.

Most of the team was already in there, save for Prentiss and JJ, who were responsible for getting a statement from the most recent victims, everyone else was looking over evidence, most of them considering the case shut. The cult was broken up, the children were on their way to recovery, but something about the discovery of this son left Hotch itching. He wanted all the questions answered, “Okay, team. We’ve just discovered Diana negotiated the murders by revealing that she had killed her son to build a new family. We need to find the burial place of this kid, so I need you guys to notice what I missed.” He pressed a button on the intercom, “Garcia, pull up the footage of the interrogation I just had with Diana Ried.”

The footage played and the team watched silently, when it was over Rossi spoke up, “She kept saying she kept him  _ safe _ .”

Morgan nodded, “Yeah, normally when they kill their children they’re delusions of protection, thoughts that the outside world is too dangerous and their purity needs to be maintained -”

“But why claim he isn’t dead at all then? And that moment right here,” Rossi grabbed the remote and rewinded to what he was looking for, Diana’s words played through the speakers.

_ Now you’ve taken me from him- _ Rossi pressed pause and Hotch looked up with realization, “He’s still alive.” He was starting towards the door before his orders were even out, “Morgan, you’re with me, Rossi, get an ambulance and meet us there, if we’re right we’re gonna need to put them into immediate care. They could be in their thirties by now.”

The house was still taped off as a crime scene, and walking through it was eery alone - Morgan was searching the property for unsearched cellars or sheds. He stepped into each room, six bedrooms, wall to wall with bunk beds and dressers, calling out clearly into each one. He got as much as he expected, silence. Finally he reached the smallest room in the house, Diana’s, she didn’t have to space to be selfish, and entered carefully, looking for anything that didn’t fall in line with the blueprints. Immediately he could tell the room was too small, slowly, something small and heavy thudded against the left wall, like a hand, “Hello?” He made sure his voice was loud enough to get through plaster and insulation; there was no response. He swore to himself and ran to the back door, he could see Morgan in the back of the yard, squinting at property specs, “Morgan! There’s something in the wall!” He dropped the papers and started running towards the house, Hotch darted in and back to Diana’s room.

“I’m from the FBI,” He shook his head, someone living in a wall doesn’t know the FBI, “I’m here to help!” Better. “Let me know if there’s a door to you!” He stood and waited, listening for another low thump and putting his hand up as Morgan sprinted in.

No response.

“Hotch, let’s just tear this shit down.” He started towards the wall, tapping the hollow sound out from end to end, “It’s a fake wall. Diana Reid was no carpenter.”

“ _ Wait! _ ” They both froze at the sound of a voice from the other side. Neither of them said anything and the voice spoke again, muffled enough that they couldn’t locate an opening, “If I talk to you, will you leave the wall up?”

“Kid, why would we leave the wall? Don’t you want to come out?” Morgan was picking at the wallpaper, looking for a loose edge in the plaster.

“No! And I’m not a kid.” Despite the insistence otherwise, his voice sounded petulant, like they were debating bedtime rather than his rescue, Hotch frowned at his comfort with his situation.

“We won’t touch the wall, okay? Is there a way I can hear you better? A door?” If he wasn’t afraid, maybe it was because this wasn’t permanent, an entrance.

“The closet.” Hotch went to the closet as the voice moved in the same direction, when he opened it it was empty. A small window was carved into the wall, a pair of eyes popped up behind it, and they crinkled with a small smile.

“Thanks for leaving the wall.”

“Thanks for letting me talk to you. What’s your name?”

“Spencer Reid. What’s your’s?” Hotch’s eyes widened just a fraction, Morgan whistled behind him.

“Have we ever been looking for you.” He started forward and ran his fingers over the edges of the closet interior, “Now to get you out.”

“Stop! You promised!” Spencer jerked back from the window, out of sight.

“Morgan, enough, we need paramedics here first anyway.” Hotch called to him, and the other agent backed off, “I stopped him, Spencer, would you come back and talk to me again? My name is Aaron Hotchner, my friends call me Hotch.” Eyes reappeared and Hotch forced himself to smile, “Thank you. How long have you been in there?”

Spencer’s eyes furrowed for a moment while he considered the question, “I’m not sure exactly, I read about measurements of time but I’ve never owned a calendar or a clock.”

Morgan blinked at his response, looking at Hotch, who was feeling just as confused, “Can you guess?”

“Based on how many times I’ve seen the sun rise and set, divided by the days in a calendar year… that would be- oh, it’s a continuous decimal, how many decimal points did you want?”

Hotch couldn’t help but chuckle, “Do you have a calculator in there?”

“Yes, it’s under my bed, do you need it?”

Morgan joined him in laughing this time, “No, thank you, Boy Genius. You can round it to the nearest whole number.”

“I’m not a boy. I’m a man.” Spencer’s eyes were narrowed and Morgan put his hands up.

“It’s just a nickname.”

“Oh! I’ve read about those.”

Hotch cleared his throat, “Spencer, do you have that number for us?”

“Right. Twenty-six calendar years.”

Hotch and Morgan both looked at each other, “Well, that’s our kid.”

“Clearly.” He looked back to the little window, “Spencer, do you remember why you went into the wall?”

He scowled in response, as though the question insulted him, “My mother is severely mentally ill. Obviously.”

Morgan rolled his eyes, “So why don’t you want to come out?”

Spencer repeated the action in response, his eye roll was considerably more dramatic, “Obviously this level of trauma has left  _ me _ severely mentally ill as well.” He paused, and his voice grew small, “I’m scared.”

Hotch felt his expression soften, “Spencer, do you trust me if I promise to keep you safe?” Rossi appeared in the doorway, a couple of EMT’s and a stretcher behind him, Hotch put up a hand to stop him and keep him out of view.

“Personally?”

“I won’t leave your side.”

Spencer considered it for a moment; the room filled with tense silence as the moment lingered, “Where will I go?”

“To the hospital, you’ve read about them?” Spencer nodded and he continued, “To make sure you’re healthy, and then assign you a counsellor.”

“Then makes sense, after that?”

“We have resources that can assist you with housing-”

“You just said you’d keep me safe.” The deadpan in Spencer’s voice makes Morgan chuckle and Hotch shoots him a look that makes him quickly stifle it. “That means until I feel like I can take care of myself.”

Hotch stared at him for a moment. When he really looked, the large emotions Spencer was displaying became transparent - he was hiding his fear, and the skill was practiced. Hotch’s chest tightened and his shoulders fell, he nodded, “Then you’ll come back to my house.”

“As long as I need?”

“As long as you need.”

Spencer’s expression wavered, and he looked back into the space for a moment before his eyes returned to Hotch, “Okay. But let me move my books before you knock in the wall.”

Spencer estimated his room to be about 3 metres in width, and after Hotch’s promise to cut the wall out carefully, agreed that moving each one of his books out through the window first was a little unrealistic. Finally, they had the wall cut out and Spencer was revealed to them, physically, he seemed to have properly developed, he was skinny and a little lanky, but that sort of build could be expected from the way he lived. He was sitting on a crib size mattress on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, and wearing a threadbare t-shirt with equally worn sweatpants. Hotch was surprised to see a functioning sink and toilet in the far corner, but it only confirmed his suspicions - Spencer’s been in there since he first entered.

With a clear view, Spencer’s eyes widened at the sight of everyone in the room, and he scooted further back, curling into himself. Hotch pushed his way through, standing between Spencer and all the other faces. He crouched down slowly and reached his hand out, “We can put you on a stretcher, if you aren’t used to walking. You’ll want the sedative they’re gonna give you, you’ve never been in a car. Will you come with me?”

Spencer perked up only slightly at the mention of a car, hesitantly placing his hand in Hotch’s, his fingers were ice cold and Hotch instinctively put his other hand over them to help heat them back up, “Can I see the car before you sedate me?”

“Sure, I’ll even let you sit behind the driver’s seat.” He started to pull and Spencer stood with him on unsteady legs, he waved off the EMT’s when they approached with a stretcher and waited for everyone to back off before leading Spencer towards the edge of the room, as they started to move forward, Spencer’s feet touched the wood floor and gasped at the feeling, his room was carpeted, “Wait one second.” He let go of Spencer’s hand so he could kneel down and untie his shoes, “Put these on, the ground outside is rough.”

Spencer obeyed, and fidgeted a little at the feeling of his feet being tied in, then wiggled his feet around experimentally, “Weird. I’ve never worn shoes before, do you get used to them?”

“Yes.”

“Will you hold my hand again?” Hotch did and Spencer swayed a little closer, “You’re warm.”

“People are warm.”

Spencer shot him a look and Hotch felt himself smirk, “I  _ know _ that. Mother’s hands were warm.” He was quiet for a moment, then he looked down, his pace slowing as they reached the door until they came to a stop in front of it. He moved closer to Hotch, “Will I be okay?”

He looked down, Spencer was clutching his hand tightly, his other hand was shaking, his shoulders were hunched in and he was squinting at the sunlight that shone through the glass of the front door. He resigned himself to not lie, “You’ll be safe. That’s all I can promise you.”

Spencer nodded, the corner of his mouth quirked up sheepishly, “I know. I was kind of hoping you’d lie.”

Hotch cringed and closed his eyes, sighing as he reached forward to open the door, “If it’s too bright, close your eyes.” The paramedics were close by, everyone was waiting for Spencer to go into shock. It was clear he was highly intelligent, but no one went through something like this and came through the otherside even close to okay. He  _ had _ had a lot of things most feral children were deprived of; he had sunlight, and education, and enough food to keep just on the safe side of skinny, some way of exercising enough that he seemed comfortable moving around… he was the strangest person Hotch had ever met.

When he opened the door Spencer flinched back, but he kept his eyes open, staring curiously, but not leaning forward. His eyes lingered on the cars covering the driveway and street, lights flashing blue and red on most of them, he narrowed them to near slits and Hotch patted his pockets before cursing and turning to Morgan, “You have your sunglasses?”

“Yeah, uh, here.” Morgan handed them over and Hotch held them out to Spencer.

“These’ll help if you want to look.”

He put them on and blinked a few times, then nodded his approval, “There’s more to see then I expected. The trees are orange, that means it’s autumn, what month is it?”

“October, next week is Halloween.” He was going to take Jack trick-or-treating, it was the first time he’d thought about him since agreeing to help Spencer, and he froze for a moment in the shock of this oversight. He pulled his hand from Spencer’s to put it between his shoulders and start them forward, while he did, he pulled out his phone to text Haley and arrange a time to talk. This wouldn’t be easy, but he was glad he’d finally moved into his own place, so at least he hadn’t thoughtlessly roped his son and ex-wife into the situation.

“I like horror novels, they’re interesting, even when they’re inaccurate.” Spencer prattled on about the seasons he’s most excited for - he really wants to see snow, and fresh flowers, he has a vague memory of them from before the wall. He doesn’t complain when Hotch seems to tune him out, putting his jacket over Spencer’s shoulders to cover Spencer’s skin from the wind and the sun, and taking him over to his car so Spencer can poke around as he wanted -  _ without  _ the keys.

It was only a few moments before Spencer sagged against the seat, “I’m kind of dizzy, the sky is too big and everything’s so far apart. Can we go with the paramedics now?”

“Sure thing, want help?” Hotch offers his hand before Spencer could answer, and it’s a good thing, because when his feet hit the ground he wavers and Hotch manages to catch him just before his knees give out, “Tired?” Spencer nods and blinks slowly, he takes a measured breath like he’s trying to ease his stomach and Hotch leans down to lift him up, “C’mon, let’s get you taken care of.”

He hands Spencer over to the paramedics, letting them strap him into the gurney- Spencer does  _ not _ like it, but he agrees to cooperate if the paramedics answer all of his questions about what they’re doing. Hotch sits inside the ambulance quietly, staying out of the way while maintaining his promise to Spencer. As the paramedics begin setting up an IV, Spencer watches with worried eyes, and his questions fall to a halt, shoulders bunching up, until Hotch reaches over to take his free hand; it was a quick out for now, someone this starved from human contact was easy to subdue or distract with a simple touch, but it wouldn’t last forever.

Fortunately, they don’t need it too; only a few moments after the IV is in, Spencer’s eyelids droop and his head lolls to the side to look at Hotch, “You’re not leavin’?”

Hotch offers him a tight smile and shakes his head, “Go to sleep.”

“Can I eat when I wake up?” Hotch’s stomach twists when he’s hit with the realization that Spencer probably hadn’t been fed since his mother was in the house - even then, the way she sprialled before getting caught could’ve easily left her forgetting something like that. Before he can open his mouth to answer, Spencer is out cold.

When they’re almost at the hospital Hotch’s phone rings, it’s Morgan, “You didn’t mean what you said in there did you?”

Hotch felt his head fall, eyes dropping from Spencer to turn away from the paramedic sharing the small space, “I didn’t really think that through, did I?”

Morgan groaned, “Hotch, you know better than to attach yourself to a vic, what’s going on?”

If only he knew, then they could both have the answer to that, “He’s so unlike all the other cases like this, I don’t know what came over me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re meant to be leading a debriefing, you’re gonna have to break that promise sooner or later. What’s the call?”

He was right, but Hotch was stubborn. He reached over and grabbed a scalpel off the tool tray, and quickly sliced his palm in one smooth swipe; the paramedics eyes went wide and Hotch raised his finger to his lips and winked at her, “I must have cut my hand when we were removing the wall, I’ll have to see the doctor as well. Have everyone go home and get a good night’s rest, we’ll debrief at six tomorrow morning.” The paramedic smiled, more than likely laughing at the BAU’s Unit Chief faking sick to get out of work, but he’d take it if she wasn’t going to tell.

“I’m not going to point out how obviously that’s a lie, because I  _ really _ like the sound of going home. I’ll let everyone know.” Morgan hung up and Hotch breathed out a sigh, then turned to the paramedic, he held up his hand.

“Can I get something to clean this up?”


	2. II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow this got deleted but I kept everything, even my notes in google docs, it’s nothing new just reposted!!
> 
> chapter 2!! im not sure if im gonna alter POV for every chapter or just when it feels appropriate but the next chapter will definitely still start from reids pov!! please enjoy this soft curious boy I've provided

In the hospital, Spencer was a bit of a mess. As soon as they went in, he was struggling against the straps, asking to sit up and look around. The artificial light was more comfortable for his eyes and the sedative he’d been given was beginning to wear off.

In all honesty, he wasn’t all that aware of his surroundings; there was too much to see, and they moved him quickly from the ambulance and to an examination room. He was glad they had given him that medicine, everything was bright white and smelled strongly of chemicals, it was overwhelming. It did have its upside, while hands poked and prodded at him, shining lights in his eyes and adding different bags of fluid to his IV stand, a largely contrasting shape wearing all black was standing in the corner. Aaron Hotchner keeping him safe. 

He didn’t talk while the doctors looked at him, not even when they asked him questions, Hotch had to step in and reply for him, as his vision started to clear, he could see concern on Hotch’s expression. He wanted to roll his eyes, it’s not like he’d spoken to a lot of people before, and the FBI probably knew more about him than he did himself, why ask him in the first place?

Eventually, the doctor finished his exam, and Spencer watched as Hotch tried to arrange appointments for vaccinations and follow ups around his work schedule. They stepped out of the room to talk for a moment, Spencer decided whatever they were discussing was personal, because Hotch looked embarrassed, and then the doctor taped a bandage over his palm and walked away. Spencer tilted his head to the side, brown furrowing; when did he hurt his hand? He watches them chat a little more before Hotch returns to the room, “Did you hurt yourself?”

“What?” He stops short as soon as he enters the room, caught off guard and Spencer raises his hand to point at his hand. “Oh. It’s nothing.”

Pink grows subtly over his cheeks and Spencer is delighted - Hotch kept such a straight expression, but  _ this _ he knew! People blushed when they felt embarrassed but… that made even less sense, “What happened to your hand?”

“It got cut.” Hotch went to the garbage can in the room and removed the bandage, “Don’t worry about it.”

Spencer forced himself to sit up, ignoring the way he swayed with the motion, “When?”

Hotch glances over his shoulder, when he looks at Spencer he’s smiling, “You’re very observant.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Laughing, Hotch nods to himself, “Very observant.” He walks back to sit beside the bed, “I’m having the doctors transfer your file to a hospital near my apartment, we can assign you a permanent counsellor there. A psychiatrist is on their way here to make sure you’re not a potential danger to yourself or others, I’ll have to step out of the room while she talks to you.”

“Okay, like when you stepped out with the doctor?” He understood that most of what Hotch had done for him so far was probably against the rules of his job, he was willing to give a little.

“Yes, but she’ll be closing the blinds for privacy.” The corners of Spencer’s mouth quirked down in a frown, and Hotch sighed, “When she’s done, we’ll get you unplugged and the doctor will sign your discharge paperwork, then we can leave.”

He couldn’t argue that it was convincing to comply if it meant getting exactly what he wanted; she just wanted to talk to him, right? “Okay.” Pleased, Hotch stood up to check if she had arrived, Spencer reached out without thinking, just barely catching himself as his fingers brushed the edge of Hotch’s jacket, and he jerked his hand back with a small squeak, “Sorry, um.”

Hotch looked back at him, and his eyebrows drew together, “What’s wrong?”

“Um, I was thinking that maybe -” He cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed; some of the books he’d read were romance novels, he understood the potential context of what he wanted to ask. He drew his hand to his chest as he considered it, he imagined Hotch, being the first person he’d met, was someone he’d happened to imprint on in a way, it made him feel a little more confident to have a reason, and he looked up at Hotch’s face. It was hard for Spencer to read expressions, he’d only ever had his own to practice on, but he didn’t look angry, which was probably a good sign, “I think it might make me feel better if I have your jacket again, is that alright?”

Hotch blinked once and nodded, he muttered, “Of course.” And quickly handed it over, Spencer pulled his first arm through, but stopped at the IV lines still in his other, Hotch chuckled and reached over him to pull the jacket over his shoulder so his arm could sit uncovered; while he did, Spencer inhaled and was surprised with the pleasant smell, it wafted off of Hotch’s jacket as well.

“Are you wearing perfume?”

“What?” Hotch pulled back to look at him, “I’m wearing cologne?”

“Once, instead of a book, Mother got mixed up and gave me a shopping catalogue. I was young, so for the most part I just liked to look at the toys, but I looked at it again…” He paused to do the math, “Three years ago, and saw perfume. I was confused about its purpose but, it makes sense now.”

Hotch makes a strange expression, but before he can say anything that might explain it there are two sharp knocks at the door; Spencer jumps at the noise and Hotch squeezes his shoulder gently in assurance, “I’ll be right outside.”

“Promise?”

Hotch opens the door and smiles gently back at him, “Promise.” He turns to the woman at the door and his voice becomes harder, like the way he talked to the other man in the room when they found him, “He’s a little woozy still, but he’s smart, I’ll be on the other side of the window, but I have a few calls to make, it’s for his comfort.” Spencer smiles a little at the introduction and folds his hands in his lap, the woman - the psychiatrist - smiles back at him and waves.

Her conversation with him is long, and a little weird, because she doesn’t really talk about the stuff that happened to him, and he thought that would be the main topic. Instead, she asks him if he has anything he wants to do in the world, what he’d read about and what he wanted to learn about now. She asked him if he might want to go to school -  _ definitely _ \- and what he thinks might be next for him. He’s fairly brief in his answers, but she has so many questions and he’s  _ tired _ , he’s glad to know he had a prepared answer for her last question, “So, Spencer, we’re down to our last question, this one is more to make sure you’ve been taken care of properly. What kind of resources have been offered to you so far? I need to make sure none of your needs have been overlooked.”

He grins at her, “Aaron Hotchner.”

The doctor- Dr. Jameson - throws her head back and laughs, “That is certainly an excellent resource to have at your disposal. You’re taken care of then, fully?”

“Hotch said I’ll go back to his place with him and that means I can live there, and that the other hospital will give me a counsellor, I think those are all of them. But I am hungry.”

She smiles at him and ducks her head in a nod, “It was fantastic to meet you, Spencer, I wish you the best of luck, your road ahead looks very bright.” She stands and gathers her belongings, “I’ll let your doctor and Agent Hotchner know you’re okay to go home, and I’ll let him know you’re hungry.” She lets herself out and Spencer sags against the bed, tired and ready to leave, all while wanting to stay exactly where he is, he’s already seen so many things, the world was much larger than his books prepared him for.

Hotch comes back in with his doctor and a nurse, and the nurse removes his IV’s while the doctor gives Hotch all the documentation they needed. When everything is set Spencer is guided by the nurse to stand and everyone goes a little quiet as he stands there in nothing but a hospital gown, a half-on suit jacket, and a pair of socks. 

“I have a set of clothes in my car, in my go bag.” He fishes out his keys and starts for the door.

Spencer’s hands start to shake and he speaks without thinking, “Please don’t leave me here.” He squeezes his eyes shut and braces himself for anger, he’d managed to make himself behave so well up until Hotch had decided to leave. Tears well up behind his eyelids and he squeezes them tighter so they can’t go out, bowing his head so his hair will hide his face. This was it, Hotch was obviously a police officer of some kind, he couldn’t stay with him forever, he was just lying to keep Spencer compliant. He thought he could take the comfort while it was offered and accept it when it was gone but- but the world was  _ really _ big, and he had no idea how to take care of himself in it, and everyone else was just a little bit stranger, a little bit scarier than the man that found and saved him. He didn’t think he would leave so soon.

A hand touches his arm and he starts, but a voice shushes the act and he recognizes it’s tone; he opens his eyes quickly, doesn’t consider the tears falling down because Hotch is looking down at him with one expression he’d seen on his own face many times - worry, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Spencer rolled his eyes and forced himself to smile, “I knew you were probably lying, but I didn’t think you’d leave this fast. I’m sorry, I’ll try to be good.” His voice is a little watery, and it cracks near the end, but his words are clear.

Hotch pulls him into a hug. He stiffened automatically, no one had held him like this since he was very little, and he couldn’t remember how he was meant to react, “I wasn’t lying. Someone else can get the clothes, I’m sorry, Spencer.” He has one hand on the middle of Spencer’s back, and the other comes up to hold the back of his head, forcing him to rest against Hotch’s chest. The guidance pushes the rest of his body into reaction and he sags, letting Hotch hold him up. He feels entirely incapable of doing much else but allow himself to be comforted, and he’s grateful that nothing else is expected of him, Hotch keeps his hand on Spencer’s back, curled under his arm to keep him upright, and uses his free hand to pass his keys to the nurse, “Thank you, the black duffle behind the passenger’s seat, there’s a pair of plaid pajama pants and a  _ navy _ t-shirt, there’s a black one in there as well, but it’s cheap and new, it’ll irritate his skin.”

The doctor leaves as well and they stand there quietly. Hotch doesn’t try to pull away or talk to him, and eventually he builds up the courage to lift his hands and grip, carefully, onto the sides of his shirt. He doesn’t make him move until the nurse comes back, and Spencer’s drowsy and compliant while they help him change, he’s grateful that Hotch leaves him with the jacket, and he murmurs his gratitude, but otherwise stays quiet while they sit him in a chair with wheels and push him towards the exit.

The air feels even colder at night, and he shivers against it when the doors open, “Sorry, I didn’t want to leave you to go get the car.” They’re moving past a lot of cars, and Spencer imagines this is a parking garage, so it makes sense that Hotch’s isn’t the first one they see. Hotch doesn’t seem to think so; Spencer can hear him muttering to himself “ _ Unit Chief of the BAU and you can’t get a closer spot to the door, Aaron? _ ”

He laughs, “What’s that mean?”

Hotch coughs a little before he answers, he hears a loud  _ beep _ and a red light flashes a few cars down, Spencer recognizes it as the black car Hotch let him sit in earlier, “Which part?”

“Unit Chief of the BAU.” He doesn’t complain when Hotch helps him into the car by lifting him and placing him in the seat, it was starting to seem like a feat just to stand up. He was tired, and  _ hungry _ .

“It’s the name of my job.”

“Do you make a lot of money?”

Hotch laughed, leaning across with a strap from the wall that went over Spencer’s chest and hips, “I make enough.”

Spencer pulls on it experimentally and is glad to see it gives when he does, he waits until Hotch has rounded the car and gotten behind the wheel to continue, “Do you make enough for me to get food?”

“Yeah, of course, what did you usually eat?”

“Mother gave me a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, an apple and a sandwich for lunch, and dinner was always different, I liked spaghetti.” His stomach growls at the thought of food and he squirms a bit in his seat, it had been a while since we went without a regular meal, Mother had only withheld them if he misbehaved, and he hadn’t been in trouble since he was a child. The car starts and Spencer sits up, alert, as they begin to move backwards, “This thing is really fast.” He’s quickly shown how little he knows as they begin to move forward, the ground racing underneath them fast enough to make him dizzy, he eases himself back against his seat, “Woah.”

Hotch laughs and slows the car down a little, “Take it easy, or you’ll ruin your appetite and I’d like you to eat something. Were there any foods you read about that you wanted to try?”

“French fries.” He’s ready with his response right away, he’d read about them in a fiction novel, and the character had made them sound like the most delicious things ever created, Mother had practically laughed at the idea of getting him something so unhealthy to eat.

“French fries it is.” He glances at Spencer, who’s trying to look at every sign and light that flies in front of the front window, and puts a hand on his chest to gently push him back, “Close your eyes, there’s a McDonald’s on the way to the office, try to sleep and I’ll wake you when we get there.”

He’s not sure when exactly he’d listened and let his eyes fall shut, but the next time his eyes blink open the car is still and they’re in front of a large building, surrounded by other cars that look the same, the car doesn’t smell of Hotch’s cologne anymore, it smells of heat and oil, “Where are we?”

Hotch looks up and over at him, he had a strange round sandwich in one hand and a small silver box that Spencer would guess was a cell phone in the other, “I didn’t want to wake you, we’re at the office but I have three more hours before the team comes in for the briefing, paperwork should only take me one.”

Spencer pulls Hotch’s jacket tighter around him and blinks groggily, “Did you get me french fries?” A bag is held up in front of him and he grabs it eagerly, sleep haziness gone, he pulls one out and looks at it, they’re long and thin and yellow just like he’d expected, but a little paler than he thought they’d be, and they were covered in tiny clear rocks. He bit into one and moaned, Hotch laughed at him.

“Good?”

Spencer hummed the affirmative and shoveled three more into his mouth, “Can I eat these inside of your office?” Hotch nodded and Spencer sat up, “Okay then I’m ready to go inside.”

With a chuckle, Hotch took another bite of his sandwich and before wrapping the paper it was in around it again, “Do you think you can walk?” He gets up and out of the car before Spencer can answer, opening Spencer’s door so he can unbuckle him and take the food.

“Can I hold your arm?” Hotch holds it out to him and Spencer takes it in both his hands, hanging on when his feet touch the ground, at some point Hotch had put his shoes on Spencer’s feet again.

The walk to Hotch’s office is a little confusing, but he manages to map most of it out in his head, and considers the trip successful by the time he’s being sat on a couch and covered in a blanket, “Eat, then sleep. When my team gets here we’ll have a quick debriefing meeting, the conference room is just a few feet away, if you wake up and are scared, you can open that door and I’ll be there immediately.”

He doesn’t like it, but he feels better knowing he’s in a space that belongs to Hotch, hard to abandon someone there, and he’s exhausted, so he shovels incredible french fries into his mouth until there are none left, and falls asleep blinking blearily at the sight of Hotch at a desk, hunched over a stack of papers and going through them furiously with a pen.


	3. III.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am just blowing through these chapter but to be FAIR i have three days off work and nothing else to do! also im lazy by nature and do not edit my work, please enjoy!

Spencer woke up when a ray of light hit his face, which was weird, because he didn’t remember moving his bed, and the window’s angle didn’t allow for that. He slowly opened his eyes and stretched, then froze and flailed when the environment was revealed to him. Where was he?

He looked around until he saw a desk, on it was a small piece of metal that said  _ Aaron Hotchner - Unit Chief BAU _ and his breathing slowed out of dangerous territory as the memory of meeting Hotch came back to him. His flailing had landed him on the floor, and he rubbed his hand curiously over the floor under him, it was the same as his room at Mother’s house, but scratchier. He pulled his hand back to his lap, and fiddled with the strings on the pants Hotch gave him, they were soft, all the clothes were, even the inside of the jacket was smooth and cool.

A drop of water hit the fabric of the pants, and he narrowed his eyes at it, then widened them as a second fell and a quick press to his cheeks revealed that he was crying, why was he crying?

His confusion only seemed to worsen it, and a small sob broke through his lips, he pulled the blanket from the couch down and around himself, he didn’t want Hotch to see him like this, not before he had an explanation - if Spencer seemed  _ crazy _ they might have to lock him away, Hotch would have to break his promise and so far he’d done a really good job convincing Spencer he wouldn’t.

The door opened and a brightly dressed woman with blonde hair looked into the room, “Oh! So sorry. I just needed a file…” She paused as Spencer’s state became more clear, “Sweetheart, are you alright?”

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t know her, she was in Hotch’s office, he didn’t even know if that was  _ allowed _ . He stared down at his lap, chest heaving a little as his sobs started to quiet down, he wouldn’t cry in front of a stranger. He wasn’t a child.

“Hello- _ oh _ ! You’re Spencer Reid.” He looks up then, how did she know that? He narrows his eyes at her in his best attempt to look intimidating, she tuts her tongue, and smiles, “Oh you poor baby, are you hungry?” She reaches into her pocket and produces a small foil wrapped square, “It’s chocolate.”

He lets her put it in his hand, but he doesn’t open or eat it, he’ll ask Hotch first, she watches him sit there and her brow furrows, a voice calls to them from outside, “Baby girl, you know I like it slow but we really need that file-“ He stops short when he appears in the room, looking at the two of them. Spencer recognizes him as the other man that had been there when Hotch found him, the girl’s head whips over her shoulder and she shushes.

“Look at the state he’s in.” Her voice is soft and sad, Spencer thinks if Morgan likes her she could be safe, but he stays on his guard either way.

He wipes his face and sits up straight, taking a deep breath and hoping he looks normal, Morgan presses his lips together and pats the door frame, “Where’s Hotch?”

Garcia straightens up and walks towards the door, she pinches Morgan’s cheek when she passes him, “If anyone can find him it’s me.”

“That’s my girl.” Morgan turns back to look at Spencer and his brow furrows, “You okay, buddy?”

Spencer forces himself to nod, “Mhm.” He’s not convinced by his own voice, but Morgan doesn’t know him as well, he could be fooled.

He looks over his shoulder at something, “You ever read about music?”

Spencer’s eyes go wide, “Yes! I had a textbook for a music theory class. And Mother used to sing to me.”

Morgan disappears for a moment, but returns quickly, holding a flat round device with a wire attached, “Can I come sit over there?” Spencer nods and he does, he puts the device in Spencer’s lap and pulls the curved plastic bit from the other end of the wire over his head, so soft pads sit over his ears, it makes everything muffled.

“What does this do?” He raises his voice to hear himself better and Morgan chuckles.

“We’ll start the volume off low.” When he says it, he twists a dial down and presses a button, something inside the device starts to whirl and he jumps, then freezes when sound starts coming from the pads, he closes his eyes so he’s not distracted and the sound grow a little louder, it sounds good, pretty, and he bobs his head slightly along with the beat of it.

When he opened his eyes to tell Morgan he liked it, he could see Hotch behind him, standing in the doorway, they were talking, but his eyes were on Spencer, “Hotch! I’m listening to music!” He raised his voice over the music, then pushed them off when he remembered he was the only one who could hear it, “I was listening to music.”

Hotch smiles at him, he can feel his face mimic the action in response, “Do you like it?” He nods and Hotch looks at Morgan, “What’s the name of the CD?”

“He can keep it.”

Spencer twists to look at Morgan, eyes wide, “Really?”

Morgan laughs and pats his shoulder, “It’s all yours, kid.” He laughs harder when Spencer frowns, “Sorry, sorry. Not a kid.”

He looks back to Hotch, “Can I get one of these devices?”

“I have one at home, you can use it as much as you want.”

Morgan does a weird motion, rearing his fist back and snapping it forward, Hotch raises his eyebrows at him and Spencer tilts his head, “What did that mean?”

“I think it means Agent Morgan wants to be written up for insubordination.” The corner of his mouth quirks up and the tension that went into Morgan’s shoulders disperses, he stands and Hotch walks over, telling Morgan to shut the door before looking at Spencer, “We can go home now-” He stops, only now seeming to notice the redness around Spencer’s eyes and in his cheeks, “What happened?”

“Nothing.” When his hand comes up to wipe away the dampness making his cheeks sticky Spencer leans into it, no one else had touched him, and he was grateful for it, but Hotch didn’t scare him, “I woke up and I forgot where I was, but I remembered.”

Hotch frowns at him, “I said to call for me. JJ was just telling me a story about her son… it wasn’t important.” The creases on his face deepen and he reaches out again to tuck Spencer’s hair behind his ears, “I could’ve been here.”

“It’s okay, I met a new person and she gave me this. Is it safe to eat?” He held out the foil square from earlier, it had warmed and softened slightly in his pocket, and it made him curious about what chocolate was like.

Hotch took it and smiled, unfolding the foil in his palm and lifting it out, “That was Penelope, you can trust her. Try it.” 

It’s sweet, like the cake he got on his birthday, but the flavor is different, richer; it melts in his mouth and lingers, he smiles, “It’s good.”

“Good. I’ve given the team the day off so we can get you set up at home, the sun’s out, do you want the glasses I gave you yesterday?” Spencer stays still as Hotch fusses over him for a moment, getting him sunglasses and putting shoes on his feet. These ones were different from the shoes Hotch wore, he called them running shoes, Spencer asked if he was supposed to run when he wore them and Hotch laughed so he decided not to base his understanding of things on their names.

The car ride home goes well, considering it’s his first without any medication, he doesn’t throw up until they arrive, at which point he pushes the door open immediately and vomits on the pavement below, Hotch is by his side in a second, rubbing his back and producing a tissue from his pocket, he’d read about motion sickness, it was much more unpleasant than he could have anticipated, “I don’t feel good.”

“I know, come here I’ll carry you in.” He removes Spencer’s seat belt and picks him up with one arm under his knees and the other behind his back, the position lets him lean against Hotch’s chest, and the warmth of him is comforting.

“Will this go away?” They’re climbing stairs inside the building, and each one makes Spencer’s head spin, Hotch doesn’t seem bothered by the weight of him, and Spencer wonders if he’s that skinny, or if Hotch is that strong. He decides it’s probably a combination of both.

“Yes, quickly. I’ll give you some water inside, and I’ll open the windows in the bedroom.” They stop in front of a door and Spencer tries to get down so he can unlock it, Hotch grunts and adjusts his grip, “Stay still.” His voice is clear and firm and Spencer has a natural inclination to listen, Hotch fumbles his hands until he manages to get his key, then he lets them inside. He doesn’t set Spencer down until they’re in his bedroom, when he sets him on the bed.

The bed is  _ massive; _ it’s long enough for him to lie almost completely straight with the pillows, and wide enough for him to spread his arms to either side and still have space, “Are they all this big?” He buries his face into a pillow and hums, it's fluffy and he’s able to sink into it. He doesn’t even care about the nausea in his stomach when he’s this comfortable.

“No, but I like a big bed. We’ll go to the mattress store tomorrow and start the process of making up the other room for you.” He goes to open the windows, unbothered by Spencer’s lack of reply; he’s busy at the moment, the sheets are soft, and he scrambles to take off his socks so he can feel them against his skin, it’s cool and smooth like the inside of Hotch’s jacket, “What would you like to do today?”

He’s brought to a pause by the question, he’s always done the same thing, wake up with the sun, eats his breakfast, clean himself, do his stretched and exercises and then read until it was time to eat or sleep, he looks up to meet Hotch’s eye, “Do you have any books?” Hotch frowns, and Spencer does the same, “Is that not the right choice?”

“No, no, there’s no wrong answer but.” He stops what he’s doing, going through the clothes in his closet, and comes to sit beside Spencer on the bed, he reaches his hand and curls it gently around his arm, smoothing his hand over it slowly, “That’s all you’ve been doing for a long time, you don’t want to try something new?”

Spencer shakes his head and scoots across the bed so he’s tucked under Hotch’s arm, he stiffens in response, but relaxes after a moment, so Spencer considers that to mean it’s okay. It had been a long time since he’d touched another human, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit he was a little eager for it, “I’ve done too many new things already, I just want to read.” 

“What do you like to read?” Hotch adjusted to him quickly, shifting so Spencer sat more comfortably, and rubbing between his shoulder blades in firm, slow circles, it made his eyes droop a little and he felt himself going lax.

“Anything, Mother only let me have three books a day, so I liked that the academic ones were longer. I liked learning too.” He can hear the rustle of the sheets as Hotch twists to look down at him.

“You read three books a day?”

Spencer laughed, “What else was I supposed to do in there? Sometimes I read them more than once.”

Hotch’s eyebrows drew together, “Right. Did you want to read an academic book?”

“Yes, actually,” He pulled away so he could sit up better, “Do you have any books about your job? I’d like to understand what you do.”

“Yes.” Hotch stood and smoothed back Spencer’s hair, “I’ll go get the book, and some water, lay down and breathe, it’ll help with the motion sickness.”

He does as Hotch says when he leaves the room, and the stillness brings the dizzy feeling back to the forefront of his mind. He groans and rolls over, grateful for the cool breeze on his face, and wonders if he’ll ever get used to living in the world. He knows he needs to be more patient, that logically he couldn’t recover this quickly, but he also knows the nausea racing through his stomach isn’t just from the car. He pulls his legs up close to his chest, and closes his eyes, digging his face into the pillow so he can’t feel the breeze; if he ignores the way everything smells like Hotch, he can almost pretend he’s back in his own bed like this, it makes his chest twist. He wants to go back. He never wants to go back.

He doesn’t notice Hotch return or sit on the bed, but when his hand touches Spencer’s back he jolts and Hotch shushes him softly, “Are you alright?”

“I’m a little tired, will you read to me?” He takes a deep breath and rolls over, he keeps his eyes closed and scoots until his forehead bumps the outside of Hotch’s thigh, he lets his face rest against the itchy fabric of his pants, refusing to be bothered by it, Hotch’s hand comes to pet over his hair and he sinks down further.

He can hear the book open up in Hotch’s lap, “Drink a little first,” A straw is in front of Spencer’s face when he opens his eyes, and he drinks down half the glass of water, “Good.” Hotch sets the glass on the table next to the bed and leans back against the headboard, “Criminal Profiling: An Introduction to Behavioral Evidence Analysis, by Brent E. Turvey. Criminal Profiling is a subdiscipline of forensic criminology, it is, therefore, a discipline within criminology…”

The sound of his voice, steady and low while he reads is soothing and has Spencer fading in and out of sleep. Eventually, he does fall asleep, he stays that way for hours, when he wakes up it’s dark outside the windows, a small lamp keeps the room lit beside the bed. He shifts around and finds Hotch isn’t there, and his stomach drops.

Things are scarier at night, he didn’t like the dark, it made the small space of his room smaller, and now here in Hotch’s apartment, it made each room endless. He stepped carefully off the bed, and went to the door, it was open, and the light in the hallways was on, he turned left and walked down towards a dark room, he could vaguely recognize the shapes of the room as the one they passed when they entered the apartment, so he turned around to see what the other rooms might offer.

His heart raced when he saw a light coming from a room at the end of the hall, he rushed to it and pushed open the door. Hotch was at his desk, head down on an open file, and a pen still in his hand. Spencer made sure to keep his footsteps quiet while he approached, and picked up the pad Hotch was written on;

_ Gideon - dinner @ 20:00 _

_ best ways to make spencer comfortable _

~~_ should I be putting him in a hospital? _ ~~

_ whats my next step?? _

His hand tightened around the pad, ignoring the instinct to put it back when he heard Hotch shift around, “Spencer?” He fumbles around for his cellphone, “Shit, what time is it?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hospital.”

Hotch freezes, and he snaps his head to look at Spencer, “You’re not.”

“ _ This _ says-”

“I was tired, I crossed it out.” He pries the pad from Spencer’s hands, “Look at me, listen.” He wants for Spencer to do as he’s told, once he does he holds his gaze steady, and Spencer can’t help but trust him, “I don’t consider it an option.”

“Who’s Gideon?”

“An old friend, we used to work together. After you fell asleep I called him, he’s going to have dinner with us tonight, is that alright?”

“That’s fine. Does he work for the hospital?”

Hotch scrubs a hand over his face and stands, he crosses the room to turn on the overhead light and stretches his arms above his head, “No, no hospitals. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Thank you. Come on, have you ever taken a shower?”

A shower, oh, Spencer had always wanted one of those, he had to wash with the water in his sink, and it was always frigid, especially in the winter, “No, but I’d like to try. Does your shower have hot water?”

“Yes it does, this way.” They step into the bathroom and Spencer starts slightly at the cold tile that meets his feet, he wishes he had this instead of carpet by his sink, the carpet over there always smelled terrible, “Will you need help?”

“Just to turn it on.” He’s already at the shower knobs, they’re different than the sink was, and his hands hover, wanting to try but not sure where to start.

Hotch leans past him, turning a silver knob and catching Spencer by his waist when he jerked back at the sudden spray of water, “Easy, this should be okay for temperature, you can take a towel from under the sink. I didn’t expect to fall asleep, so I have to start making dinner, what did you wash with?”

“I used a bar of soap for everything.”

“Okay, shampoo in your hair first, then conditioner, this is body wash for everything else.” He shows each bottle to Spencer and he nods in response, it’s not a difficult system to follow, “I’m gonna go to the kitchen now, do you need anything else?”

  
“No, I’m excited to try the shower.”

Hotch starts out the door, “I’ve got to get the water on, but I’ll leave a fresh change of clothes on the counter for you in a minute.”

“Okay.” Hotch left and Spencer removed his clothes, he stuck his foot under the spray experimentally, but it was pleasantly warm, he stepped the rest of the way in and closed the door for the shower behind him.

Showering was easy, rinsing his head right side up was more difficult, and he got shampoo in his eye, but he was done quickly. He toweled himself off and got dressed in the clothes Hotch left for him, a soft blue sweater and gray sweatpants, then started out of the room.

“Hotch?” He called, the floor was cold under his feet, “Can I have some socks ple-oh.” He fell silent immediately, there was a man in the kitchen with Hotch, he was older than him, and he had kind eyes. He bit down on his lip, fiddling with the sleeves of the sweater, he watched quietly as he stood and smiled.

“Hi, Spencer, my name’s Jason, I’m a friend of Aaron’s.”


	4. IV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i said slow burn and its gonna BE a slow burn dammit its okay if hotch has feelings
> 
> ALSO i am making the solemn promise right now to go over this and edit HEAVILY if i finish this fic, bc im not looking at this chapters even once before i post them and im so sorry for that

Immediately, Hotch can see Spencer has gone on the defense, but he can’t for the life of him figure out why, there’s a slight change in Gideon’s posture as he registers the same. Luckily, Spencer doesn’t make them wait.

He walks slowly while he speaks, in a broad curve towards Hotch and around Gideon, “What’s your last name?”

“Gideon.”

“Why do you call him Aaron?”

“That’s his name, what do you mean?”

Spencer stops in front of Hotch, who puts a hand on his shoulder, “Spencer, it’s alri-”

“He said his friends call him Hotch. So why did you call him Aaron?”

Gideon blinks at him, just as taken off guard as Hotch, then tilts his head back and laughs, “He’s smart.”

“I tried to tell you.” He had; when they’d made the plans he’d tried to explain to Gideon that Spencer was unlike anyone he’d ever met, Gideon had shrugged it off; he smiled now, happy to see Spencer’s uniqueness was clear right away.

“I called him Aaron because I thought you might, and I thought it would make you more comfortable.” He came back to the counter Hotch was chopping onions at, sitting at a bar stool so the counter space sat safely between him and the other two. Hotch knew what he was doing, establishing a set up that would make Spencer feel less vulnerable, by the way his shoulders relaxed, he’d say it worked, so he sent Gideon a grateful look.

Spencer crossed his arm on the counter, staring Gideon down. Hotch moved the knife. “I’m his friend, I call him Hotch.”

Gideon looked delighted at that, Hotch felt an embarrassed smile tug at the corners of his mouth, “Do you really?”

“Yes. You can ask him.” Spencer looked to Hotch expectantly and he bowed his head in a nod.

Gideon clapped his hands together, then winced when it made Spencer jump, “Sorry, that was just the best thing I’ve heard all day. I would love to have a conversation with you, Spencer, would you answer some questions for me?”

Hotch’s chest tightened when Spencer tensed, “Do you work for the hospital?” He rubs his arm and shoulder, even as Gideon shakes his head.

“No, no, I don’t work for anybody, are you afraid of the hospital?”

“No.” Spencer’s voice is tight and his eyes are narrow, but he offers more explanation, and Hotch wonders if he’ll ever be able to make people trust him as fast as Gideon does, “The hospital isn’t  _ scary _ , but I don’t want to live there. I don’t want to leave Hotch.”

Gideon nods solemnly, “Of course. I would never try to make you do that. Will you sit at the table with me and chat? I think Hotch needs to finish chopping those onions for dinner.”

He watches Spencer look down and notice the chopping board for the first time, he wants to say it’s alright, the sauce doesn’t need onions, Spencer can stay right there in Hotch’s line of sight, shoulder under his palm, but he really doesn’t feel like listening to Gideon dissect his motivations for that. He lets him go with one more squeeze of his shoulder, “I’ll be in your line of sight if you sit at the head of the table, okay?”

“Okay.” Spencer nods and stalks off quickly, passing Gideon and plopping down in the chair as Hotch directed, Gideon sends him a look over his shoulder and Hotch just shrugs.

He can’t hear them from the kitchen, but he refuses to let it bother him, instead he focuses on cooking, he’s making spaghetti, it’s the only thing he knows Spencer likes aside from french fries. He’s straining the noodles when he hears a sound ring clear from the other room, and he nearly burns himself scrambling to get a look at the source. Spencer’s sitting back in the dining chair, shoulders relaxed and head tilted to the ceiling, laughing hard and loud. Hotch takes the moment there to watch him, a smile growing on his own face even as Spencer simmers down and replies to whatever Gideon said.

He plates up three dishes and brings them, stubbornly ignoring the feeling that twisted through him at the thought that it was Gideon who first made Spencer laugh like that and not him. It felt eerily like jealousy.

“What’s so funny?” He walks in, eyes expectant and trained on Spencer, who perks up at his arrival, he sets plates down in front of each of them and Spencer’s eyes lit up.

“Spaghetti! Mother only ever got me this for my birthday.” He took a bite and his eyes shut gently, “This tastes a lot better, Mother was a terrible cook.”

He continues eating without pause, and Hotch and Gideon look at each other with humor in their eyes, “I oughta cook for the kid someday, if he likes Italian.” Hotch had to resist the urge to glare, he could cook for Spencer just fine; the shock of the urge alone is enough to stop him, since when was he so possessive of Spencer? Just a few hours ago he was considering the pros and cons of taking him back to the hospital for good.

Spencer frowns, then talks around his mouthful of food, “I’m fluent in it but I don’t know if I’d say I  _ like _ it, I prefer Norwegian.” Hotch and Gideon both pause, turning to stare at him, and Spencer blinks back at them innocently, “What?”

Hotch smiles, looking down at his plate, and Gideon clears his throat, “You speak Italian?”

“And Norwegian.” Hotch speaks up, a smile on his face, what couldn’t this boy do?

Spencer shakes his head, “No, I’m still learning Norwegian, I’m definitely not higher than a beginner’s proficiency, but that’s only because I didn’t have any intermediate or advanced books on the language. But I am fluent in English, Italian, French, Spanish,  _ and _ Mandarin.”

“That’s very impressive, Spencer, most people in your situation wouldn’t be as productive.”

“I don’t know if I was productive, I was just tired of taking naps all the time, and I still had a lot of time to do other stuff with a three book limit, so I started memorizing things.” The phrasing brings back a thought Hotch had had earlier, and he stands.

“Give me one second.” He makes his way quickly down the hall to his office and grabs the first book he sees - a mystery novel - and heads back to the dining room, “Spencer would you read this for me? In your head is fine, just how you normally read.”

Spencer takes it curiously, and opens the cover, flicking through dedication and table of contents until he hits the first page of the novel, then he trails his finger down the middle of it, eyes flicking rapidly over the text, and turns it in about five seconds. He continues doing this with each page, Gideon and Hotch watching him silently, until he’s half way through the novel, when he squints up at Hotch, “This book isn’t very good, the killer is obviously the business partner.”

He can feel Gideon turn to look at him too, and Hotch’s smile spreads over his face, “You’re right, I got bored of this one and skipped to the end, it is the business partner.”

Gideon leans back in his seat and stares at Spencer, “Remarkable.”

Spencer blushes and that jealousy rears its head once more, Hotch forces himself to not scowl and takes his seat again, he’s being ridiculous, this is  _ Gideon _ , “You’re  _ extremely _ intelligent, Spencer, do you know that?”

The flush across his cheeks darkens and he looks down, closing the book carefully, “Not smarter than you.” He sounds unsure of himself, and Hotch grieves all the things he could’ve been in another life.

Hotch takes the book from him and keeps Spencer’s hand under his own, waiting for him to look at him, he doesn’t, “Spencer, you might be smarter than the both of us combined.”

“I think you just found your next step.” They both turn to look at Gideon, and he’s smiling at them, “If you had a degree, I’d tell Hotch to hire you, maybe you should get one.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed while he thought, and both men waited patiently for his reply. The silence drew on longer than normal and Hotch cleared his throat, “You don’t have to, it was just an idea.”

“No, I want to go.” He sounded passive, that wasn’t the problem here, “I wonder if I’ll cope with it well or not.”

Hotch tightened his hold on Spencer’s hand, “What are you worried about coping with?”

“Well, other students. Attendance and participation requirements. I read a middle school student handbook once.” His mouth twisted and he sighed, “Even your apartment seems so  _ big _ , how would I navigate a school building?”

He looks at Gideon and sees the man looks just as heartbroken as he’s feeling, he gives Spencer’s hand a little shake so he looks up, and gives him a warm smile, “You’ll need a GPA first, have you heard of those?” Spencer shakes his head, “It’s an equivalent to a high school diploma, it’ll introduce you to different subjects that might interest you, and you can do it all online.”

Spencer’s eyes went  _ wide _ , his shoulders relaxed and his back straightened, when he spoke, it was very clear he was trying to control his tone, “And I would get to use a computer to do this?”

Hotch smiled wide, he could hear Gideon cough a laugh, “At least five days a week, I’d get you your own.”

“Okay.” Spencer nodded and squeezed Hotch’s hand once before pulling it back into his lap, there was a pale dusting of pink over his cheeks and Hotch didn’t consider the action before reaching over and tucking his hair behind his ears so he could see it better. He’d done this more than once, keeping Spencer’s face visible; he told himself it was so he could watch for emotional cracks, but he was good enough at his job to catch even himself in a lie.

Gideon cleared his throat and caught both their attention, “This calls for celebration, yes? I know you always have a good wine on hand.”

“Wine! I want to try that!”

Hotch laughs and stands up, “Small glass for you.” He points at Spencer when he says it, and grins at the laugh he’s rewarded with. He goes into the kitchen smiling, and when he pulls out his best bottle of wine he pauses, rolling it in his palms. He’d talk to the counselor Spencer’s assigned the next day, ask them if it was a good idea to get him an accelerated course of study, so he can build his life faster. He was eager to see him thrive.

He grabbed three wine glasses and headed back to the dining room, he filled his and Gideon’s a little more than maybe necessary, and poured no more than a couple sips into the third. Gideon took a sip and hummed his appreciation, but Hotch waited to watch Spencer first, when he took a sip his face twisted and he coughed, “Is this rotten?”

Both men laughed at Spencer’s reaction, and Hotch shook his head, “No, it’s alcohol, you haven’t read about it before?”

Spencer shook his head, he took another drink from the glass and reared his head immediately, “Only in fiction, and the characters enjoyed it. I don’t have any idea why.”

“The first thing people like is how it makes them feel, you get used to the taste.” Gideon told him, and Hotch shot him a look.

“That’s not true, I’ve always rather liked a good red.” He cleared his throat and pulled the glass away from Spencer, “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it.”

“Well wait,” Spencer stuck his hand towards it, paused halfway and pulled it back, he only flicked his eyes briefly to Hotch, “I kind of want to try- I mean I’ve always been curious about getting… you know… tipsy?” He says the last word like he’s not sure if he’s using it right, peaking out out of the corner of his eye at Hotch for his reaction.

Hotch sighs and drops his head into his hands,”Dear god.”

“I’m sorry! It was just an idea and if that’s the whole  _ point- _ ” Spencer stopped himself and swallowed, he was waiting for Hotch’s reply.

Gideon spoke up first, “I mean, I can’t think of two people more qualified to supervise him while it happens.” Hotch shot his head up to look at him and he shrugged, “I mean, everything he’s been through, wouldn’t you want a drink?”

“You know it’s not a good idea.”

“So regret it in the morning. That’s what good wine’s for, he’s not a child, Aaron.” Gideon took his own glass and took a sip, smiled to himself, and pushed Spencer’s glass back towards him.

Hotch was surprised, he expected the child comment to strike a cord with Spencer, push him on to do what he wanted, it’s the fact that he looks to Hotch first that he decides to let it happen, “I can put some grape juice in it, to make it easier to drink.” Spencer stands, both hands holding the glass eagerly, Hotch smiles, “Come on.”

In the kitchen the air feels quieter, Spencer stands with all his limbs close together, and pressed back against the counter, Hotch can tell he’s not used to having space he can fill, and he actually finds himself looking forward to what Spencer is like when he’s forced to let his guard down. 

He pulls out the grape juice and turns before he picks his head up, the first thing he sees are Spencer’s feet, toes curled in tightly, and he gasps, “Socks! You asked earlier and I completely forgot-” He cuts himself off, setting the juice on the counter and putting a hand on each of Spencer’s shoulders. He pulled him to the small carpeted mat in front of the sink, “Wait there, I’ll be right back.”

He rushed into his room and grabbed the first pair of socks his hands touched, he was back to Spencer in a minute, and Gideon was with him, he was wearing his jacket, “Jason said he’s leaving. Should I call you Jason or Gideon?”

Gideon smiles, “Call me Jason.”

“You’re leaving?” Hotch unfolded the socks and knelt down, holding a hand out for Spencer’s foot, he obliged without saying anything.

“Yeah, I’d say you got your hands full here, any more wine and I won’t be driving home.” He catches Hotch’s eye when he stands up, “You’re doing just fine here. Go easy on yourself.”

“Thank you. Get home safe.”

They shook hands, Gideon nodded, “We’ll do this again, I’ll cook next time, you can bring Spencer to my new cabin.”

“Are there animals at your cabin?” Spencer spoke up and Hotch turned to look at him, he took the wine glass from Spencer’s hands and filled it more than halfway up with grape juice.

“Deer, sometimes, and raccoons at night. You’d like the deer, they’ll come right up and eat from your hand. Have a good night.”

Spencer waved and Hotch followed after him to lock the door, when he came back, Spencer was drinking away at his glass. It was barely a tenth wine at that point, so he bit back any comments, and instead picked up his own to take a sip, “Are you still hungry?”

“No, the spaghetti was good.” Spencer wandered around now, Hotch imagined he was a little more comfortable when it was just the two of them. The socks probably helped too. He stopped in front of the fridge, there was a photo attached with a magnet, Jack, Haley, and Hotch, a little over two years ago - just before the divorce, “Is this your family?”

“Yeah.” He walked over to look with him, he remembers the day, it had been the third time they’d had to reschedule, and this was the only good shot they’d got in before Hotch’s phone had rang, “My son, Jack, and his mom, Haley.”

Spencer turns to look at him, “Is she your wife?” His eyes dart to Hotch’s left hand, looking for a ring - he knows something about marriage.

“Not anymore.” He presses his lips together and sticks the picture back on the fridge, “Do you want to watch a movie?”

Spencer turns to look at him, moving faster than usual, his glass is already nearly empty and when he looks, Hotch can see heat turning the tips of his ears pink, “On the television?”

He smiles, “Yes.”

“Can I pick?”

Hotch laughs and takes Spencer’s glass from him, then puts a hand on his back to lead him into the living room - they stop briefly on the way so Hotch can pick up the wine bottle, the grape juice is tucked under his arm, “Do you have something in mind?”

“I got a book recently, it was for kids, but I thought the story was good. The cover said it was a ‘motion picture’, that means movie, right?”

Hotch wasn’t sure he’d have a kids movie that was recent in his collection, Jack was still in the phase of being fixated on a select few favorites, “What’s it called?”

“ _ The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. _ ” Spencer continued walking when Hotch paused in the living room, right up to the TV to look it over. He did have that movie, he loved the series as a kid, so he purchased the movie on impulse when it showed up in his local pharmacy.

“I have it, we can watch that. You want to see how it’s set up?” He wasn’t surprised when he was met with an excited nod, and set about plugging in and turning on the DVD player, explaining every step along the way, and answering more questions than he thought someone could have about something so trivial.

He had to force Spencer to sit on the couch, he’d wanted to sit right in front of the TV while he watched, but it was easy to coax him over with a drink. As the miniscule amount of alcohol began to hit Spencer’s bloodstream he turned soft, sunk back into the couch and sprawled out in any of the space Hotch wasn’t taking up; his cheeks were warmed pink but his eyes were clear and he never stopped looking at the screen. Hotch decided that was his best stopping point, and switched his glass to plain grape juice without a word.

As the movie neared its end, it did so with a massive battle scene, Hotch didn’t know how he’d forgotten about it - it  _ was _ a kid’s movie, but it more graphic than anything Spencer had seen before, and when he whimpered and turned his head to hide behind Hotch’s shoulder he paused the movie, “Enough for tonight?” Spencer nodded but didn’t come out of his hiding spot, the tip of his nose pressed into Hotch’s shoulder blade and he frowned, “Are you okay?”

“When I got scared at- at the hospital, was the thing you did called hugging?” His voice sounded small again, nervous, and Hotch forced himself to keep his back relaxed.

“Yeah, it was a hug.” He felt Spencer’s hand grip into the side of his shirt, similar to how he had at the hospital, only less hesitant now, “Do you want one now?”

“Is that okay?”

Hotch twisted immediately, careful not to pull away, and wrapped his arms around Spencer’s middle, holding him briefly at the waist to pull him to sit up, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would upset you so much.”

Spencer burrowed into the hold offered to him, he pressed his face into Hotch’s shoulder and inhaled deeply, “It didn’t.” He breathed out and relaxed, Hotch pulled his head back so he could glance at Spencer’s face, he wasn’t lying - he was smiling, “I just wanted to hug again.”

Hotch laughed and rubbed his hand briskly over Spencer’s side, he had certainly achieved his goal of tipsy, “You want to go to bed?”

“Not yet. Can we sit here for a little bit?” He burrowed in a little deeper when Hotch nodded and leaned back. He told himself this was fine, he wasn’t taking advantage of Spencer by doing this, but he still felt conflicted on a moral level. 

He couldn’t deny that his interest in Spencer was no longer purely platonic, it wasn’t something he’d anticipated, originally he just wanted the kid to feel safe, but something had grown over the past two days, and now he noticed himself growing possessive in addition to his protection. He didn’t know if it was  _ romantic _ , but it was he wanted Spencer beside him at all times, and he couldn’t deny the implications there. It made his stomach turn to think about for too long; Spencer’s life had barely begun, it would only be a matter of time before he was moving on and out of Hotch’s life for good. He closed his eyes and breathed out a sigh, Spencer matched his breath and he tightened his arms around his thin body; Spencer practically purred his contented breath, and Hotch could feel him relax as he started to fall asleep. He let his own breathing slow as he followed closely behind and smiled sadly to himself, he would keep just this, for now, and it would be enough.


	5. V.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise im still actively writing this my updates r just gonna be slower on days i work ajsjkhs
> 
> spencer reid says wear ur mask!

Spencer wakes up the next morning in a bed. The blankets are pulled over and tucked around him, and a fresh change of clothes, including socks, is folded on the table beside him. The sun is high up in the sky and he gasps, it’s practically lunch!

He gets out of bed quickly and rushes through some stretches when his muscles protest, he dresses, then fusses around a little bit in the clothes, the t-shirt is soft, but it’s sleeves are shorter than the sweater, which is itchy, and with the little zipper done up it tickles his chin. The pants are fine, they aren’t soft like the sweatpants, and they don’t stretch the same, but they’re fine. His grievance is with the sweater.

He leaves the bedroom and wanders towards the room he found Hotch in last time, the one full of books, and grumbles when he doesn’t find him there, heading instead for the kitchen. As he gets closer he can hear something pop and sizzle, and smell fat and oil in the air, similar to the french fries but different. Like meat. 

He finds Hotch cooking at the stove, and Spencer goes right up to him, itching irritably at his sweater the whole way, “I don’t like this.” Hotch stops what he’s doing to look at Spencer and he makes a point to deepen his frown, pulling at the sweater sleeves, “It’s itchy.”

“It’s wool. We have to run a few errands today and there’s a wind chill. I don’t want you to get sick.” Spencer huffs and he sighs, “You can take it off for now but you have to put it on when we leave, I don’t have anything softer.”

He fumbles the sweater over his head and deposits it onto the counter, “The blue sweater was soft.” He mutters it while he sits, folding his arms on the cool countertop and dropping his head down so he could watch what Hotch was doing.

“The blue sweater’s thin as a sheet, you might as well just wear the t-shirt.” As he says it, he pushes the food he was cooking onto two plates, and puts one, with a fork, in front of Spencer, scrambled eggs and bacon, he’d had this once, it was good. 

He takes a bite and hums, looking up at Hotch and smiling, “Okay, just the t-shirt is good.”

“No- I didn’t mean-” Hotch sighed and took a bite of his food, chewed, and swallowed, “You have to wear the sweater, Spencer, your immune system is incredibly sensitive.”

“I  _ know _ .” He whines and glares at the sweater, why make clothes that itchy in the first place?

Hotch stops eating to fold the offending garment, “I’ll make you a deal, I’ll make our first stop somewhere you can pick out your own jacket, okay?”

Spencer perked up at this, he liked the idea of his own things, and they were filing in fast - his first CD, his first computer, his first bed, his first jacket, “Okay!” He went back to eating, and Hotch did the same, Spencer sat at the counter and Hotch standing across from him, and he decided he liked this. Eating with Hotch, and going to stores and doctors and driving around in a car weren’t all that scary, in fact most of the time he was having fun.

Hotch gave Spencer a chalky orange tablet, for motion sickness, and a pale blue mask he’d have to wear in the store, and they left for the car. The medicine worked, and Spencer decided he really liked cars, there was so much he could see so quickly, it still made his head a little dizzy, but he pushed through it; he wanted to  _ see _ the world, he’d already read all about it. Eventually, they pulled up in front of a store with big glass windows, he could see clothes all over it, and people walking throughout, the sign above the doors read  _ Old Navy _ . He cast a glance to Hotch, “This is the store?”

“Yeah.” He nodded and turned off the car, he took off his seatbelt and Spencer mirrored the action, “Wanna go inside?”

He narrowed his eyes at the place, sizing it up, he didn’t know enough about clothes to really know what was inside, “Do they have soft sweaters?”

“I’m sure we can find something that won’t irritate your skin.”

He shrugs and pushes the door, it doesn’t open so he starts feeling around it until he finds a nob beside the window, he pulls it up, and the next time he tries it, the door swings open. He grins to himself, feeling successful, and gets out, it’s thrilling and refreshing, the little bit of independence he feels getting out of the car on his own and meeting Hotch at the edge of the sidewalk. Yesterday he was getting sick on the ground and carried in.

It bolsters his confidence enough to resist clinging when they enter the swarm of people, the store was  _ big _ but still, there had to be at least ten people in there! He trusted that Hotch, someone who grew up in the world and faced it’s biggest monsters as a day job, would keep an eye out for any signs of trouble, but it still made his hands fidget to think of all the bodies he couldn’t keep track of. The anxiety swirling in his brain slows when Hotch’s hand rests on his back, “I’m sure we could have what you need delivered, if this is too much.”

He leans closer, feels Hotch’s side brush against his arm, and breathes out, “I’m alright.” He forces a smile and points to the table in front of him, it’s covered in stacks of sweaters similar to the one he was wearing now, thick and high necked, with a zipper that started halfway down the shirt instead of at the bottom, but the fabric didn’t look as rough, it looked liked the fuzzy blanket on Hotch’s couch, “Can I touch one?” Hotch nods and pushes him, gently, forward. 

He sunk his fingers into the material of the sweater, it was plush and soft on his skin so he put his other hand on it too, he can hear the smile in Hotch’s voice when he talks, “You like it?”

“Yes, I want this one.” It’s the same color as the one he was wearing now, blue so dark it was almost black, he liked that it looked the same, it was a good way to make sure it was still going to do all the things Hotch wanted.

Hotch chuckled and started digging through the pile, “It’s the exact same as the one you have on.” And Spencer paused, frowning.

“Is that bad?” He looked down at the sweater he was wearing; he  _ was _ warm under it, so it couldn’t be the style… he pointed at a grey one instead, “That one’s good too.”

Hotch pulled out what he was looking for and the corner of his mouth pulled up, “It’s not bad, you can get whatever you want.” He held the sweater, brown like all the others in the pile, up to Spencer’s shoulders, “This will be a little loose, but the next size down will be too short. You’re sure you like this one?”

Spencer nodded firmly and followed when Hotch took them to pay for it. The girl at the register smiled at them, and he thought vaguely that she looked very young, “Hello, did you find everything you were looking for?” Her voice was aggressively cheerful, but her face looked blank as she spoke. Spencer looked to Hotch, unsure of how he should continue, had he upset her?

“Yeah, it went great, can you take the tag off too? He’s gonna wear it.” She flicked her eyes at Spencer and he flinched back, she looked  _ angry _ .

“You don’t have to.” He spoke before he thought, and then snapped his mouth shut behind his mask, crowding a little closer to Hotch, who rubbed his arm and mouthed something to the girl. Whatever it was made her eyes soften and her smile more genuine when she handed the sweater out towards them in a bag, Spencer took it carefully, “Thank you.”

“Have a good day.” She smiled even wider, and Spencer felt himself smiling back.

When they left he looked at Hotch right away, “What did you say to her?” 

“Nothing.” Hotch squinted down at him, but that could’ve been because of the sun, it was just  _ so  _ bright outside; either way, he knew Hotch was lying, he could figure it out.

“Okay, why was she mad?” As he spoke, he pulled off the itchy sweater, shuddering when the wind hit his bare skin, Hotch had the sweater out of the bag and held out to him before he could even reach for it, and he quickly pulled it on.

“Is it comfortable?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Hotch laughed and opened the car door for Spencer, who got in and waited with little patience for the other to round the car, “What makes you think she was angry?”

He thought back to her face and grimaced, shaking his head, “Her eyes.” It takes him back to days when disobedience had higher stakes. His mother would call him gently to the window in the closet,  _ Spencer, dear, it’s dinner time, have you stopped crying? _ Even if she could still hear his sobs, her voice was always low and soothing, but as soon as Spencer got near the window, and he saw her eyes, his stomach would drop, because he knew he’d be hungry until he could behave.

Hotch’s hand landed on his forearm, curling around it and grounding him; Spencer blinked and found himself back in the car, when he looked, Hotch’s eyes were sad, “She was tired, and overworked, but not angry.”

“Oh.” He can’t tell if Hotch is lying or not, so he decides to trust him, he doesn’t have any reason not to. He looks up as the car leaves the parking lot, pulling his mask off his face and rubbing where it pulled at his ears, “Where are we going now?”

Hotch grimaced, and kept his eyes on the road, “The hospital.” He sinks down into his seat and grumbles, eyes narrowing further when Hotch smirked at his reaction, “You’re meeting your counselor today, then a few vaccines, we’ll be out in a couple hours, and then we can get lunch.”

Spencer didn’t let the promise of a short visit or lunch distract him, “Vaccines?”

“You haven’t read about them?” He shook his head, “It’s a needle, like the IV, but only for a second, they’ll probably make you tired.”

At this, Spencer sulked further down in his seat, “Everything that’s supposed to make me better just makes me tired.” He’d like, for once, to be able to keep his eyes open throughout the whole day; he used to rarely sleep, reading and rereading constantly instead. Now that there was finally something to see, he couldn’t go a few hours without a nap.

The hand on his arm squeezed briefly before smoothing over his sweater, “A few more vaccines a week from now and we’ll be done with the medicine.”

One week, that was seven days, and it’d be over. Considering what he had waited through up until then, it didn’t seem so long.

His trip to the hospital wasn’t bad. His ‘counselor’ as Hotch phrased it, was a licensed psychologist who specialized in victims of severe forms of abuse, and her credentials made him feel better about going in to talk to her alone. She was nice, and her eyes were warm and dark, like Hotch’s, which made it easier to look at her face while he spoke.

The hour he was in there seemed to go by in seconds, and then it was onto vaccines. For those, Hotch was allowed to stay with him, and Spencer was grateful for the chance to cling to his hand when they rolled out the tray of tools, the long thin needles front and center.

Hotch had bent down and told him, “Look at me, and try to relax.” And held his eyes while breathing slow and steady so Spencer could follow him. He’d felt a few pinches in his arm, and when Hotch told him he could look, the nurse was putting bandaids on him.

In no time they were back in the car, and Spencer could already feel himself getting groggy, “Don’t feel good.” He curled up a little in his seat, and pressed his face into the cool touch of Hotch’s hand when it reached out to feel his forehead.

“A mild fever is normal, are you hungry?” He shrugged, he wasn’t  _ hungry _ , but he didn’t feel like he was going to be sick, “We can eat at home, do you want to go lay down for a bit?” Spencer nodded, and let his eyes close briefly when Hotch’s hand ruffled his hair before pulling away.

They drove home quietly, and Spencer kept himself awake for the drive, he couldn’t sleep while he felt this warm and uncomfortable. When they parked, he noticed his mouth was dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth “Can I have some water?”

“Of course, can you walk?”

“Yeah.” He waited for Hotch to come around and open his door for him, took the hand offered to help him get out, and they started the hike up to Hotch’s apartment.

_

Hotch is itching by the time they get inside, Spencer looks dead on his feet, eyes heavy and limbs hanging with the post vaccination symptoms. He needs to get him fluids and rest, he hates the helpless feeling that comes with Spencer struggling through the first steps of recovery. Despite his exhaustion, he rushes to pull off his sweater and push his shoes off his feet as soon as they get through the door, he lets out a heavy sigh in relief and Hotch smirks, “Feel better?”

“A little.”

“Alright.” Hotch takes Spencer’s sweater and hangs it up with his own, and lines both of their shoes by the door, “Go sit on the couch, I’ll get you some water.”

“No-” He pauses, turning to look at Spencer, who flushes deep red, eyes wide, “Sorry, um.” He looks down and squeezes his hands into fists by his side.

Hotch is by his side in an instant, hands hovering over him, “Spencer?” All he gets in response is a head shake and his stomach drops, he doesn’t know what he  _ did _ , how to remove the trigger from the room, “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

Cautiously, he puts hand on Spencer’s cheek, trying to urge his face up to look at him, when he does his eyes are filled to the brim with tears that he’s clearly trying to hold back, and he gasps a little when he talks, “I didn’t  _ mean _ to.”

His eyes look glassy, and a little distant, so Hotch cups his face in both hands, “Spencer. Hey, look at me, right here.” Spencer blinks and his tears drop down his cheeks, but he looks at Hotch, expression a little dazed, “That’s good, Spencer, it’s me, it’s Hotch, I’m right here.” He nods slowly and Hotch smiles, “Yeah, what happened?”

Spencer hiccups a breath and blinks harder, but he doesn’t pull his face from Hotch’s hands, “I’m sorry.” His voice is soft, hardly more than a whisper, and Hotch shushes him gently.

“Why are you sorry? I’m not upset with you.”

“I wasn’t allowed to do that- disagree. Even before the wall I was  _ not _ allowed to say-” He cuts himself off, shaking his head a little, and the pieces fall into place. Making something as simple as the word  _ no _ off limits to a child forced them into obedience; that helped if you needed to keep them quiet. He feels sick at the realization.

Spencer buries himself into Hotch, clinging to him as the permissions of the outside world come back to him, he shushes him, “You don’t ever have to agree with me, okay? You can tell me no.” He feels him nod against his shoulder and he rubs his back, “Come on.”

He gets Spencer a glass of water and sets them up in the living room, Spencer wrapped in a throw blanket and the radio turned on low, he kept the room dim, leaving the kitchen light on to light it instead. They sit in silence for nearly half an hour, Hotch on one end of the couch and Spencer sipping slowly at his water on the other, before it’s broken, “I um.” He cleared his throat, and looked down when Hotch looked up, “I didn’t know it would scare me so much to, uh, to do that.” His eyes flick up to look at Hotch, gauging his reaction.

“That’s alright.” He racked his brain for something to say, something to ease the tension, “What if we come up with another word you can say instead? Like if you want to say no to something you can just tell me… eggplant.”

Spencer’s nose wrinkled and Hotch felt the urge to smile, “Will it make a difference if I know what I mean?”

“I think so.” He shifts over a little, reaching out to wrap his finger carefully around Spencer’s ankle, and pulling it into his lap when he does little more than jerk at the action, pressing his thumbs into the arch of his foot and grinning at the pleased reaction he gets from Spencer. He tells himself this is an important part of the recovery, human contact, which is true. But it’s not his reason for it, “You told Morgan no when we found you, and you’ve said it to me when I ask you questions, maybe a different word will help you reassociate.” His smile softens out a little, he can say with certainty that voicing his opinion isn’t something Spencer hesitates to do.

“Okay, I’ll try it.”

Satisfied, he pauses what he’s doing to rest his hands over the tops of Spencer’s ankles, “Will you tell me why you wanted to say no?”

At this, Spencer shifts uncomfortably, pulling his feet from Hotch to draw his knees in, “I didn’t - I don’t feel good. I’m uncomfortable and you make me feel safer.” His cheeks color pink and Hotch’s chest tightens, Spencer clears his throat, “I just wanted to stay with you.”

Warmth washes over Hotch, and he smiles, and then smiles wider when Spencer smiles back. He doesn’t think about it.

Their evening passes quietly, Hotch makes them soup as an early dinner, to go easy on Spencer’s stomach, and introduces him to the world of online shopping, so they can pick out a mattress and sheets. He let’s Spencer get a bed as big as his, and choose the color of the sheets that will go with it; he picks a blue, like the sweater he’d borrowed from Hotch, and he makes a mental note to see if Spencer has a preference for it, it could be useful to know.

Eventually Spencer, worn out from a fever and a panic attack, was ready for bed early, and Hotch led him to the bedroom, he got him a pair of pajamas and Spencer stopped him when he started for the door, “Where do you sleep?”

He grimaced, he should have expected this, “On the couch. It’s not uncomfortable.” Spencer frowned, “I don’t mind.”

“Are you lying?”

This was easy, “No, I really don’t mind.” He’d do just about anything to make Spencer a little more comfortable.

“Okay…” He squinted at Hotch, it made him grin, and he narrowed his eyes further, “Goodnight.”

Hotch laughed and went to the door, “Goodnight, Spencer.”

He left the door open behind him and went to the living room. He sat on the couch and leaned back with a sigh, his mind was trying to make sense of a thousand thoughts a second and he was failing miserably. He needed to talk to Haley. He wanted to see his son. This was the longest he’d gone without doing any work in a long time. He closed his eyes, resigned to try and rest for the night.

He slept for four hours before his phone rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fluff is fun but i think its time for reality to punch hotch in the face yknow


	6. VI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i got into a car accident, had a mental breakdown, made vegan chocolate mousse, and wrote and posted this in one day, in that order, does that make up for the fact that its being posted at 2:30am aklslksdhs

Spencer jolted awake. There was a hand on his shoulder and he jerked away from it, blinking his eyes while he looked around the room; it was still dark, had he slept through the whole next day? He turns and finally finds the source of his waking, Hotch, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking so  _ sad _ , Spencer’s stomach twisted, “Hotch?”

“Hey.” He puts his hand back on Spencer’s arm, rubbing over it, and it makes him relax enough that his eyes start to droop again, “You awake?”

“Mm-mm” He shook his head and pressed his face into the warmth of the sheets, “Is it tomorrow?”

“Not yet.” He shook Spencer’s arm a little, “Can you sit up for me? I need to talk to you.”

The sound of his voice was slightly urgent, and Spencer dragged himself to sitting so he could pay attention, worry creasing his features while Hotch looked at him, “Is something wrong?”

“I got a phone call from my work.” He looked down, it was the first time Hotch seemed to be having difficulty holding eye contact, “I have to go in, the case sounds messy, so I could be gone for more than a day.”

All the blood drained from Spencer’s face, “You’re leaving?” He knew this would happen, after learning about Hotch’s job he knew it was important, and he knew he saved people every day but. He was scared, he didn’t want to see him go, even temporarily, “Will I be alone?”

“That’s part of why I woke you up. You have three options, do you remember Penelope? She gave you chocolate.” Spencer nodded, she was nice, and pretty, “You can stay with her at the office while I work, but you’ll be there the whole time and there won’t be a bed for you to sleep in, or you can stay with Gideon, he has a room you can stay in, or, if going somewhere else makes you nervous, you can stay here, and I’ll make sure someone brings you your meals. It’s up to you.”

It makes him feel a little better to have options, but anxiety still pooled in his gut at the idea of Hotch leaving, even temporarily. He looked down at his lap and picked at the skin around his thumb, frowning, “I don’t- I’m-” He paused and swallowed, forcing himself to remember Hotch doesn’t have a say in this either and actually consider his options. “If I stay with Penelope, can I sleep in your office?”

Hotch’s hand goes from Spencer’s arm to his hair, pushing his fingers through it to brush it off his face, it feels good and Spencer leans into it, desperate for all the affection he can store up before Hotch leaves, “Of course you can.” His voice is soft and kind and Spencer can feel his throat thickening; he scoots closer and burrows in when Hotch wraps his arms around him, “It won’t be forever, do you believe me?

“Yes.” He can hear the crack in his voice when he says it, and clears his throat, “I believe you.”

“It’s alright. C’mere.” He pulls him closer, smoothing a hand down Spencer’s back, “Try and think of something you want to do, and when I come back you can tell me what it is and we’ll do it, anything you want.” It’s comforting to have something to do with the time, and he sniffles with his nod.

As soon as Spencer calmed down, Hotch was moving faster than he’d ever seen him, stuffing clothes into a bag for Spencer, and gathering a pillow and blanket to bring to the office. He got them into the car, it was  _ freezing _ at night, and even with his new sweater over top of Hotch’s blue sweater, he’s shivering violently by the time Hotch is starting the car, “It’s so cold.” His teeth click together when he tries to talk, so he presses them together to keep them still.

“It’ll warm up soon.” The car jolts into motion and Hotch twists a dial among the many between them, cool air blows harshly at him from the vents when he does and Spencer flinches back, relaxing as it quickly starts to warm, “Are you okay?”

“Mm-hm.” He doesn’t try to talk, when he looked at Hotch he looked so tired, the skin around his eyes was starting to look bruised and Spencer recalled all the moments of rest he got while Hotch drove or worked or cooked, and now he had to go to work; it makes him feel guilty, he doesn’t want to worry him too. He waits for the heat to settle in a little before he talks, watching Hotch drive while he does, “Are  _ you _ okay?”

Hotch blinks twice, surprised, “I’m always okay.” He smiles, but it doesn’t look how it normally does, his eyes don’t crease, and he doesn’t show his teeth, it makes Spencer frown.

“Is that true?”

This time, Hotch does smile, and he laughs a little when he answers, “Yep.”

Spencer narrows his eyes and stares at him, but he doesn’t know what he’s looking for, so eventually he sighs and sits back against his seat, “Fine.”

In all too little time, they’re at Hotch’s office - the BAU office, and anxiety tightens Spencer’s stomach back into a knot, when Hotch opens the passenger door he whines in the back of his throat but goes, hands fisted around the fabric of Hotch’s sleeve on one arm while he carries their bags over his other. Hotch takes him in and past the security desk with a wave of his badge, they don’t get off on the same floor as they had the last time they took the elevator, instead they go one floor higher, and down a long hallway, until Hotch knocks on a door near the end and pushes it open.

The inside makes Spencer blink hard, eyes wide at all the details, there’s a long desk covered in brightly colored knick knacks and more computer screens than he could reason one person needing, and Penelope, in the center of it all, on a chair and grinning at them, “If it isn’t my new partner!” She jumps up and pulls Spencer down into a hug, he jolts and freezes in her grip.

“Easy, Garcia, he’s barely even awake.” Hotch sounds stressed, and Spencer wants to argue that he’s  _ wide _ awake, but it makes her let him go, so he keeps his mouth shut and presses closer to Hotch’s side, “Spencer, I’m already late, so I can’t stay, but Penelope is going to take good care of you, and she won’t do anything you don’t like. Remember what I said, you can trust her.”

Spencer’s knuckles turn white gripping Hotch’s sleeve, and his lip wobbles when Hotch pries it off and walks away. His throat goes rough and dry and his chest heaves and he holds his breath to keep it in, locking all his muscles in place so he doesn’t mess up.

“You okay there, partner?” Penelope’s voice cuts through his concentration, and he barely chokes back one dry sob, nodding his head in a jerk and picking at his thumb again, “Come on, standing there won’t make it any better, sit honey, you have to be tired.”

He sits in the chair she pulls over for him, it doesn’t have wheels at the bottom like hers does, but it has bars on either that he can rest his arms on, and they hold his legs in when he rests his heels on the edge of the seat, chin on knees, “Why do you have so many computers?”

“I use them for work.” She sat down in her own seat and started fiddling with one of the computers; it was different from the others, which were just screens, it wasn’t attached to the wall and it had a bottom half covered in buttons with different letters on them. He’d read about these before -  _ laptops _ .

“I  _ know _ that,” He rolled his eyes, and scowled a little when it made her giggle, “Hotch doesn’t use this many, and he’s the  _ Unit Chief _ .” His chin picks up a little when he says it, pride swelling even though he wasn’t the one with the title.

Penelope laughed, “Hotch is a genius, but honey, he could never do my job.” She held the laptop in front of Spencer’s face, on the screen was a large block of text, and he reached for it so he could read what it said, she pulled it back, “Ah-ah, I have an introduction for this.” Spencer folded his hands in close to himself and she cleared her throat, “This, my dearest Spencer Reid, is a paper written by a university student a long time ago, it talks about the importance of compassion in the field of work he was studying to enter, and it’s the softest piece of non-fiction potentially in existence. There’s a whole chapter about how his fiance connects him to his humanity.” She gives a dreamy sigh and leans back in her chair, Spencer leans forward impatiently and she pulls the laptop even further away, “First, promise me you won’t tell Hotch I showed you this.”

This makes Spencer sit back, hesitant, why would he have to keep it from Hotch? “Why?”

She grinned, “Because he wrote it, and it would humiliate him.”

“Okay.” His pulse quickens, these are  _ Hotch’s _ words, he wants to read them, and if telling Hotch would upset him, he doesn’t have to know.

“Spence, I think we’re going to be very good friends.” She passes him the computer and he doesn’t reply, even though she said his name wrong - he reads.

She’s right, Hotch is a good writer, his points are compelling and clear, and it’s one of the better structured essays Spencer had gotten to read. But what he really liked, was the paragraph Penelope told him about. Hotch’s narrative turned gentle when discussing his fiance, and one line, detailing the significance of someone in the field of law being capable of great love, and feeling it actively every day, made Spencer’s chest tighten so suddenly he put a hand to it, he could feel the way his heart sped up, and he looked at Penelope, who was watching him closely, “Reading this makes my chest tight.” She smiles, and he frowns, “Couldn’t that be dangerous?”

“Depends on your definition of danger.” Her smile is coy but it still makes Spencer’s eyes widen, “Oh no no! I was making a joke, you’re alright.” He looks warily back down at the screen, looking without reading doesn’t cause a reaction so it eases some of the tension building up in his shoulders.

“What does it mean? I haven’t had that happen before.”

Penelope stares at him, chewing at her lip, “You’ve never felt that before? Ever?”

He stopped to think about what it had really felt like; his face had warmed, his chest tightened, and his stomach seemed to flutter. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

She pulled her chair a little closer, “What about when you hug Hotch?” He blinked at her, bewildered by the question and she laughed, “No?”

“Of course not, that’s ridiculous.” He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head, “Hotch makes me feel safe.” Why on earth would he give Spencer physical symptoms to his presence, he was the only one he ever really wanted to be around.

“Right, my bad.” She grinned and spun her chair -  _ that _ was interesting, he itched to see how it worked, but when he tried his own, it didn’t have the same feature - around when one of her screens chimes, “Sorry, sweetheart, we’re going to have to table this, the team just got in and they already need me.” She started typing away, so Spencer finished the essay and set the laptop carefully to the side of her desk.

He watched her work, curled up in his chair a few feet away, for a while before his eyes started getting tired. She was deep in conversation with someone named Prentiss when he decided he wanted to go to bed; he didn’t want to disturb her, the faster everyone worked, the faster Hotch came home, so he slipped out of her office silently, and took the elevator down one floor.

It was satisfying to find Hotch’s office on his own, it made him more confident in his ability to exist on his own, and his bag was waiting beside the couch, which was already made up with a blanket and pillow. He curled up in the makeshift bed, happy to find the bedding smelled like Hotch’s apartment, and closed his eyes; it took some time, he was restless to be alone in the large office, but eventually, he fell asleep.

-

If anyone asked him, Hotch would be embarrassed to admit he was excited for a night to himself in his hotel room. 

After arriving on location and going through the suspect list the case started to look open and shut, they’d be home the next night if their lead pulled through, and he was grateful for a chance to finally rest. He hadn’t had good sleep in a few days, and he was starting to feel it. 

He took a long, hot shower, then called Haley before he went to bed. “Aaron? I haven’t heard a word from you since you asked to meet, what’s going on?” Her voice was hushed, and Hotch’s lips pressed together, he’d called too late to wish Jack goodnight.

“I’m sorry, it’s been busy.” He sits on the bed and rubs his forehead, “The last case I had… it was a cult case, a woman was abducting children and forcing them to kill their families.”

“Jesus, okay, why are you telling me this?”

He shifts, annoyed at the anxiety he’s getting over this conversation, “She was mentally ill, and locked her only son in a wall for twenty six years. Somehow, he’s managed to make it out pretty okay. His name is Spencer, and I’ve taken over as his caretaker while he adjusts to the world.”

It’s quiet for a long time on the other line, he almost pulls away the phone to check if it had died when her voice came through, low and dangerously calm, “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

“I know it’s unexpected but he’s been doing really we-”

“I feel for the kid, Aaron, I really do, but you barely have enough time for your son as it is, how could you sign up for something like this?” She’s just on the edge of yelling at him, only controlling her volume because Jack’s sleeping, and he lays back on the bed and squeezes his eyes shut.

“I don’t know.” The worst part of it all, is that she’s not painting him as an irresponsible parent, no, when Jack sees him all he sees is his dad, the hero; but he deserves so much more, Haley did too, that’s why he didn’t fight when she left him, moved out and supported them without a complaint, “I’m sorry. Something about him… he needed me.”

Haley inhales a sharp breath, “ _ We _ need you.”

He doesn’t know what to say so he nods, “I’m sorry.”

“I can’t- I can’t do this right now. Just text me when you’re interested in being a father to your own son again.” The line goes dead and Hotch drops his phone beside his head. He lays there for a long time, staring at the ceiling and wondering if he’d ever figure himself out. 

When he finds himself drifting on the side of sleep, he sits up and calls one more number, and smiles at the greeting he receives, shuffling at first, then Spencer, “It’s on now?”

Garcia’s laugh, “Yes, say it just like we practiced.”

Spencer clears his throat, and then speaks too loudly into the speaker, “You’re on with Boy Wonder and um-” He cuts off to whisper, “What was the other part?” He hears Garcia’s voice, too hushed to make out, and Spencer returns, “Um, you’re on with Boy Wonder and technology’s very own Wonder Woman, how can we be of service?”

Hotch feels a smile stretch wide across his face, “Hey, how’re you doing?”

Spencer gasps, “Hotch?” He moved away from the speaker, talking to Garcia, “I think it’s Hotch!”

She giggles her affirmation, “Good catch.” Then raises her voice to reach the mic, “He’s been a star, barely a hiccup!”

“Penelope gave me Lucky Charms, can we buy some for our house?” Spencer cut in and Hotch found himself exhaling on a laugh.

“Sure, soon as I get back.” It’s a relief to know he hadn’t gotten seriously impacted by it, and a little endearing thought in his head praised Spencer’s intelligence for comprehending the things around him so well, “What’d you do today?”

“Not much, I slept a lot.”

“That’s good.” He wants to get on a private call with Garcia for a more thorough check up on Spencer, but he likes getting what he can from the man himself, “What’d you do after you woke up.”

“I read most of the books in your office. Your job is  _ terrible _ .” This makes Hotch and Garcia laugh loudly, but he continues on, “Then Garcia found me, you didn’t tell her where I was going to sleep so she was pretty scared. That’s when she gave me the Lucky Charms. Then she showed me how to play a game on her computer, um, the laptop one, and it’s fun!”

“I set him up with it at four, he’s been on it since.” Hotch glances at the clock, it’s nearly ten at night back at the office.

“Which game?”

“What other game is there?” The offense in her voice makes Hotch chuckle, “Nancy Drew!” That makes him laugh.

“I think I’ve almost solved it, the game gets stuck if you don’t solve everything in the right order, so I’ve had to restart a few times.” Spencer cuts in, sounding distracted, probably back at his game, and Hotch smiles, feeling warm at the sound of his voice.

“It’s supposed to be three hours of gameplay with the walkthrough, and he’s been through it nine times and just about figured it out in five hours, I don’t know if I can find any harder puzzles.”

He opens his mouth to joke about showing him some cold cases, but he wouldn’t put it past her to go ahead and actually do, so he keeps it to himself, “What’d you have for dinner?”

“Sandwiches, they came with french fries.”

He knows he’s clinging to the conversation, and he knows Garcia has definitely noticed, so he presses his lips together and lets out a long breath, “I need to go to bed, so I can get back to work in the morning, don’t stay up too late. Same for you, Garcia, we’re all in bed, you’re off duty for the night.”

“I love the sound of that, sir. Wanna say goodbye, Spence?”

“You know that’s not my name.” Spencer’s voice is almost scolding, and Hotch has a feeling this isn’t the first time she’s been told that, then he comes close to the phone, “Goodnight, will you be home soon?”

“I hope so.” He does, he feels like every time he starts to get his grip on life, work calls and he’s forced to let it slip through his fingers again, he’s exhausted from it constantly.

“Good. I’ve decided what I want to do when you get back.”

He smiles, he doesn’t doubt that it was one of the first things Spencer did with his free time, “I can’t wait to find out, goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” The line clicks with the end of the call and he plugs his phone in and shuts off the lights. The room is dark and cool and quiet, and it feels like only seconds before Hotch is asleep, and even less before he’s back in the local station they’re working out of, and the case is falling together in front of their eyes.

They get lucky, bring in a suspect with nothing more than circumstantial evidence, and get a confession before lunch, he’ll be out of the debriefing and home in time for a late dinner. If his leg bounces impatiently the whole ride home, none of the team are brave enough to say anything about it.


	7. VII.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got into a second car accident bc im sexy and spontaneous like that but it got me a day off work which means its got all of YOU a faster update! pls enjoy!!

When the jet touches down, Penelope and Spencer are waiting on the runway, and Hotch, the last to get off, can’t help the way his exhausted features lift into a smile when he sees them standing there. Spencer pushes past the other agents, and meets Hotch halfway down the stairs, flinging his arms around his shoulders with so much force his feet pick up off the ground, and Hotch has to balance him before he pulls back, “Hey, I missed you.” He brushes Spencer’s hair off his face, letting the back of his hand linger on his cheek. They said distance made the heart grow fonder, he had not realized how true that was until he had Spencer back in front of him. Looking down at him now, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with excitement, it wasn’t difficult for Hotch to imagine leaning in to press a kiss to Spencer’s parted lips - in fact, he had to stop himself when instinct told him to do just that.

Spencer’s grin widened and he dove back in for another hug, “Missed you too.” He didn’t complain when Hotch put an arm around his waist to guide him back down and off the stairs so he let it linger there while everyone got their bags and started back to the office, “I know what I want to do.”

Hotch heaved his bag over his free shoulder, “Good, we’ll get started as soon as we can, what is it?”

“I wanna start school.” He shivers a little when the heat from indoors hits him, and Hotch tugs him closer so he can run over his arm, try to warm him up.

“I have to debrief the case, but, uh, Garcia.” She appeared, seemingly out of thin air, Hotch blinked and Spencer jumped, “Do whatever you need to do to get him into an online GED program. And get him a computer - something easy to use.” He fishes out his credit card and hands it over, then turns back to Spencer, “Penelope will set you up, I’ll be done in a couple hours.”

Spencer frowned, “I can’t stay with you?”

“I’m sorry.” He pulls away from Spencer, “It’s confidential, even you can’t listen in.”

“What if he doesn’t listen?” The three of them look to the voice that spoke up, Morgan, at his desk, pulling his CD player out of his go bag, Hotch feels a smile grow over his face, he needed to look into getting yearly bonuses added to their budget, this team deserved it. “You left your CD here last time, pretty boy.”

Hotch bristled and Spencer’s eyes went wide, “Pretty boy?”

Morgan chuckled and came over, pressing the CD player into Spencer’s hands, “Sure, you got that sweet and innocent look about you.” His grin curled up his face, cuffing Spencer’s lightly under the chin with a knuckle, “It’s a compliment.”

“Oh.” Spencer fiddled with his hands, looking between Hotch and Morgan with pink growing over his cheeks, “Thank you?”

“I’m sensing a very strange form of tension so… I’m gonna go.” Garcia coughed, squeezing past them to start towards the elevator, waving Hotch’s card as she went, “I’ll get you what you need!”

“Thank you!” Hotch called after her, before pushing Spencer towards the conference room, “Go on, I’ll be right in.” When the rest of the team started in the same direction he caught Morgan, stopping him, “Let me ask you something unprofessional.” Morgan smirked, but nodded him on, “Were you…  _ flirting _ … with Spencer?”

Morgan laughed and looked down, “I’m gonna answer a question with a question, boss; why does it seem like you care so much?” He ducked into the conference room before Hotch could reply, and he scowled - Morgan was right.

He set Spencer up with his back to the screens, and his music’s volume just loud enough to block out their voices. The debriefing was quick and easy like the case, but he still found Spencer asleep in his chair when they were done, Garcia stopped him before he could wake him up, “You said he sleeps a lot?” Hotch nodded, and she frowned, “Not when you’re not here. Let him sleep, I’ll bring the paperwork to you.”

“Thank you.” He sits down as she leaves, in the chair next to where Spencer sat at the head of the table, and watched him. He knows denying at this point will only lead to hurt on both sides, he has to acknowledge, to himself, the feelings he’s developing rapidly for Spencer. Even just watching him sleep, his fingers itch to reach out, tuck back his hair and smooth out his clothes - he should’ve told Garcia to bring a blanket. He wouldn’t tell Spencer, it’s so far beyond anything he’s ready for, and the betrayal of trusting someone as much as he does Hotch, only to be met with impure intentions… it could ruin him entirely.

Garcia opened the door and he looked away, sitting up straight; yes, it was better to leave it alone.

He gets his paperwork done in record time - easily done with a simple case - and gathers their stuff, getting it into the car before attempting to get Spencer, if he woke up he might be frightened, but JJ was still in, and he couldn’t think of someone better to be a comfort. It didn’t matter in the end, because when he got back in Spencer was still out cold.

Not wanting to disturb him, Hotch tried to pick him, but he flailed at the movement, barely clinging to Hotch before he could fall, “Easy, it’s just me.”

Spencer blinked twice, fists tightening around his jacket, “Hotch?”

“Yeah, we’re going home.”

“Oh.” Spencer snuffled and nuzzled his cheek against Hotch’s shoulder, making him smile, “Good.” He closes his eyes again, content to be carried; Hotch pulls him in closer and takes them home.

By the time they pull the car into its parking space, Spencer is wide awake once again, so when they get inside they both go straight to the kitchen. Hotch stared at the feeble contents of his fridge - a bottle of mustard, a couple beers, some take-out he should’ve thrown away weeks ago - and frowns, “Looks like we’re gonna have to order something. How hungry are you?”

Spencer shrugged, he was fiddling with the silverware in the drawer, “Are these usually made of metal?”

“Uh, most of the time.” He opened the junk drawer and sighed at the mess inside it, digging through in search of delivery menus, “They make plastic ones you can throw away, and plastic reusable ones for kids.” Spencer scowls and Hotch just barely catches it, looking up in time to see him shake the expression away, “What?”

“Nothing.” Spencer closes the drawer, interested now in the menus Hotch had pulled out, “Can we get pizza? Penelope said it was good if you didn’t get it from the cafeteria.”

“Yeah, of course.” He pulled out a menu for a place nearby, it was decent - as far as Hotch was concerned, pizza was pizza - and punched their number into his phone.

They got plain cheese, to ease Spencer into the concept, and he enjoyed it  _ thoroughly _ , but it wasn’t long until they were both ready for bed. He went through the routine, brushing his teeth beside Spencer, getting them both pajamas for the night, but when he went to turn off the light, Spencer stopped him, “Wait. Um.” He paused, waiting for Spencer to continue, “I just wanted to suggest that you might, uh, you might want to sleep in here instead of on the couch?”

“I told you I don’t mind.” It wasn’t a good idea, and it wasn’t something he wanted to give himself the chance to get used to, “You might get scared if you wake up and there’s another person there.”

Spencer looked down, and from what his hair didn’t block, Hotch could see his face turning red, “Not if it’s you.”

It made warmth grow across Hotch’s chest, and he shook his head, “It’s only going to be a couple more nights, and then you’ll have your own bed.”

The frown creasing Spencer’s features deepened, “I- uh, I-” He paused, and then, in a very small voice, said, “Eggplant.”

Despite knowing it was a bad idea, Hotch shut off the light and went to the bed, “Okay, I’ll stay.” He untucked the comforter and got in, keeping a careful distance from Spencer, “Will you tell me why?”

Spencer nodded, and shuffled down so he could lay against the pillow, “I don’t like when I wake up and don’t know where you are.” He flicked his eyes to Hotch, who nodded and laid down so they were on even ground, “Yesterday I woke up and I didn’t know where you were, before I remembered you were working, and I got upset.” Clearing his throat, he looked away, chewing anxiously at his bottom lip, “I just wanna know that you’re here when I wake up tomorrow.”

“Alright, I’ll be here.” He watched Spencer shift around, curling up around the pillow and turning his back to Hotch, waiting until he was settled to get himself comfortable, “Goodnight, Spencer.”

“Goodnight, Hotch.”

_

The next morning, Spencer opened his eyes to someone beside him, and knew immediately it was Hotch, he didn’t jump or flinch, instead, he stretched his legs out taunt and hummed against his pillow, glad to wake up without feeling afraid for the first time since he was in his mother’s house, “Hi.”

“Hey, did you sleep well?” Hotch’s voice is slow and quiet, it’s obvious he’s trying to keep from startling him, and Spencer grins at the feeling it gives him - happy.

He scoots over, Hotch is sitting up, and the position let’s him rest his head on his leg, still warm with the blankets, “Mm-hm.”

Hotch’s hand came to rub his back and Spencer keened, more than willing to indulge in the gentle morning being given to him, “There’s a computer for you at work, Garcia called, she found a program you can start, they’ll give you a test at the start to find out how much you need to learn.” He pulls his phone from the nightstand, and sighs, “We need to get ready, I have work.”

Spencer went still, “Again?”

“There’s no case, you can stay in the office with me.” He relaxes at the assurance and Hotch’s hand slows, fingers light as they pass over his t-shirt, “What do you want for breakfast?”

Wrinkling his nose, Spencer pushed himself to sit up, “I don’t know, I ate oatmeal for the past quarter decade.” He reached along the side of the bed until he found the hooded sweater Hotch gave him - it smelled like him and it was soft and warm - he pulled it on and hummed.

Hotch laughed, “Fair enough. I have waffles in the freezer, that’s all we’ll have time for.” He gets out of bed and Spencer watches him go through a series of stretches, and thinks it's strange, how hard he finds it to look away.

“Can I talk to Garcia at work today?” Spencer pads out of the room ahead of Hotch, confident he’ll follow, he’s heard of waffles, but he’d never seen one, “I need to ask her to research something for me.” He never got to request topics for the books Mother gave him, so he’d fast learned that dwelling on something wasn’t worth the stress.

Sure enough, Hotch replied from right behind him, “Sure, she’s gonna teach you to use the laptop, everything okay?” He brushes past Spencer, hand squeezing his arm as he does, and pulls a yellow box from the drawer at the bottom of the fridge, it says  _ Eggo _ in bright red lettering, and Spencer is confident the image on it is a picture of waffles.

“Everything’s fine. Those are waffles?” He reaches for the box when Hotch pulls out the contents, and turns it over in his hands, reading the back and front.

He looks up, watching as Hotch drops each waffle into the toaster - he’d gotten a user manual for one of those before, he understood them  _ perfectly _ , “Yup. They’ll be ready when we’re done brushing our teeth, let’s go.”

He pushes Spencer around from room to room, getting them clean, dressed, fed, and in the car in just over thirty minutes, the clock reads 7:45 in the car and Hotch curses as he blasts the heat. Spencer burrows down into his seat, tired again now that they’re out in the cold and dark of early morning.

A metal cup, complete with a lid, that Hotch had brought with them appears in front of him, “Hold it, it’ll warm your hands.”

He took it, then pulled his sleeves off his hands to feel the heat directly, “What’s inside?”

“Coffee.” Spencer pulled the tab on the lid, it popped open and he inhaled, “You can try it, but it’s black.”

He thought it smelled pretty good, “What’s that mean?”

“No cream or sugar, it’s just coffee.” He slowed the car as Spencer rose the cup to his lips, sipping slowly, he flinched back a little when it hit his mouth - hotter than he had expected - but it didn’t burn, and it was a little bitter but he liked it, he sighed a little and took another sip, and Hotch laughed, “I should’ve guessed - don’t drink too much, it’s caffeinated.”

“That means it raises your heart rate?” He’d read about it once for sure, but it was a long time ago. 

Hotch nodded, “That’s right. We’re here, do you need me to walk you up to Penelope’s office?”

He pulled the car into its spot and turned it off, Spencer raised his chin, “I can do it.”

Hotch laughed and got out, Spencer followed suit, getting out before he could try and help, and starting off ahead of him; behind him, he heard a laugh as Hotch jogged to catch up, “Only one of us can get past security.”

They go in and Spencer waves, the security guard recognizes him and waves back with a smile as she scans Hotch’s badge through, “I need a visitor badge for him, but just a day pass, it won’t be overnight this time.” She hands them what they need, and they head inside.

Hotch pets his hair back before they part ways, a simple gesture that makes Spencer all the more eager to see Penelope, and he rushes down the hall to her office, knocking impatiently on the door, “I’m coming, I’m coming! Calm down! Mary, mother of- Spencer!” The anger in her tone vanished and her face lifted into a smile when she opened the door, and she urged him inside, “I’m so excited to introduce you to the world of computers, come in, I’ve already set it up.”

“Wait, I need to talk to you.” He puts his hands up where she’s crowding him towards the desk and she stops, “It’s a little embarrassing, but I need you to help me research something.”

“Oh, of course, what are we looking up?” She drops to her chair on her computer, pulling up a long bar with a blinking line at the start and staring up at him patiently.

Nervous, Spencer starts to pace, the skin of his thumb had gotten pink and raw around the edges, but he picked at it anyway, letting it distance his mind from the conversation, “I never had any books on it.”

“Right.”

“I mean - I  _ sort _ of did, I had a couple romance novels, and those are when a man and a woman fall in love. And I know our biology is set up so that a man and a woman have to reproduce together.” He glanced at her and she just nodded him on, looking a little confused, “Well… I was just wondering if, um, if there had ever been a case where a man fell in love with a man?”

Penelope inhales sharply and his head snaps up to look at her, nervous he said something wrong, “Oh honey, I’m not the right person for this conversation.” She grabs the phone from her desk and punches at the numbers, receiver held between her ear and her shoulder, “Hi! Are you busy? Okay… can you be not busy? You’ve heard of Spencer, right? He has some questions you’re uniquely qualified to answer - no, don’t tell Hotch! If he wanted him to know he would’ve asked him right? Ten minutes? You’re my hero, thank you.” She hangs up the phone and smiles at Spencer, “Emily is one of the other agents here, she’s the best person here to ask about that. But while we wait…” She pulls a chair up beside her and opens the laptop waiting there, Spencer rolls his eyes and sits down.

The laptop is easy to use, and he’s already getting the hang of it when someone knocks once on the door and pushes it open, a pretty woman with dark hair and eyes pops her head in, smiling, “Hello.”

“Ah!” Penelope spins her chair and smiles, “Spencer, this is Emily, Emily, this is Spencer.”

“Hi, Spencer, do you mind if I come in?” Her voice is kind and gentle so he shakes his head, “Thanks, what’s up?”

“Spencer asked me for help researching something.” Emily raises an eyebrow so Penelope explains further, Spencer can feel heat pooling in his face, “He wanted to know if there were any documented cases of a man falling in love with another man.”

Emily lifted her head in a slow nod, eyebrows raised, “ _ Oh _ . Hey, Spencer, you wanna come talk with me for a bit? I think I can answer your questions.”

He looks between the two women for a minute, chewing on his lip, “Shouldn’t I ask Hotch first, so he knows where I am?”

Shaking her head, Emily coughed, “No, no need, we won’t even leave the office, and I’ll bring you right back to Penelope.”

Spencer fidgets for a bit, considering his options, he could refuse, stay here, but then he wouldn’t get any help with his question, and Hotch  _ said _ he could trust Penelope, and she said it was okay… “Alright, where are we going?”

“There’s a room just down the hall, it’s private.”

The room she takes him to is just that, and not much of anything else, the walls and floor are pale neutral colors, and there’s nothing inside but a table surrounded with a few chairs, “It’s mostly just back up space, for when we need to spread out for a case or something” She gestures him in and he goes, eyes on the door even as she closes it.

“Are there?”

“What?” She looks at him, eyebrows close together while she sits, and he huffs.

“Cases of men falling in love with men?” He takes a seat across from her at the table, folding his hands on it to keep from fidgeting.

“Right!” She laughs a little and leans back, she looks relaxed and it makes Spencer feel a little better, “Short answer, yes, absolutely. But you have questions?”

“Lots! Is it normal? Can they have children? Are there books about that kind of romance too? Can women fall in love with women too, or just men? And… is it a side effect of being in the wall - does it mean I’m sick?” He prattles off the first questions he can think of, they’re the ones that had been in his head all morning, he had follow ups ready so he leans forward.

Emily blinks twice, a little shocked, and smiles, “Yes, completely. Not on their own, but there are other ways. Yes, I’ll make sure to find you some. Women can too, actually, I’m in love with a woman. And no, there’s nothing wrong with you if you think you like men, and it has nothing to do with what happened to you.” She reached across the table to take his hand, and he let her, “Will you tell me what made you think of this?”

He chews his lip and nods, steeling his courage, “I, um, because of- it’s Hotch. He makes me feel safe and comfortable, and I want to do the things I read about other people doing together. I want to touch him and- um and, hug him and-” Heat grows across his entire face and up to his ears, he flushes bright red with it and stops talking.

“Okay.” She doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even smile, and it feels easier to talk when he doesn’t feel laughed at, “Have you told him about how you’ve been feeling?”

“No!” He’d be  _ horrified _ , Hotch had a  _ son _ , he used to be married to a  _ woman _ .

“Alright, alright. It might make you feel better, from what I’ve heard, he’s not capable of being mean to you.” Emily smiles a little at this and Spencer feels himself do the same.

He has a hard time imagining telling Hotch, but she was the same as him, she could be right, “Do you think so?” She nods and he purses his lips, hesitant, “Okay.”

“You don’t have to tell him right away just… think about it.” He nods, and she stands up, “Do you have any other questions?”

“One, what happens if he doesn’t feel that way back?”

She frowns, waiting for him to come over so she can rub his arm, her touches are gentle and comforting like Hotch’s, and he doesn’t find himself flinching away, “You come talk to me, and we find out which flavor of Ben and Jerry’s is your favorite.”

He reaches out to open the door, he doesn’t know who Ben  _ or _ Jerry is, but he feels emboldened by her confidence, one more question makes him hesitant, “And what if he does?”

She grins and reaches past him to pull the door open, “You’ll be so happy, you won’t even remember what it’s like to feel any other way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does it count as a slow burn if they're both in love by chapter 7


	8. VIII.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, i wanna give a timeline for the story bc i feel like i haven't done this and going back and forth between spencer and hotch's pov is making it feel confusing for me, my disclaimer is that i know nothing about how old they are meant to be in the show bc i dont retain information and i just googled it today so they are 7 years older than they should be ajshskdfd
> 
> alright so spencer is 33, he went into the wall on his 8th birthday and he was found on oct 19th 2008, this chapter takes place oct 24th (if i counted the days wrong too bad this is it now), so his birthday is coming up and he'll turn 34  
> Hotch is 44, his birthday is nov 2nd he'll turn 45

When Hotch gets off the elevator, the first thing he sees is his ex-wife standing outside his office.

His stomach drops and he rushes across the space - it probably won’t take Spencer more than twenty minutes to understand both the computer and the online software, he doesn’t have long, “What are you doing here?” He tries to keep his tone polite as he opens his door and waves her in, but his voice is tight.

“It’s the only place I ever know you’ll be.” She’s considerate enough to keep her voice down and her face neutral while he closes the door, but once they’re alone, her shoulders fall and she rubs a hand over her forehead, “I’m sorry I snapped at you last time we spoke but…  _ Aaron _ .”

“I know.” He goes to his desk and sits down, it’s covered in new files, stuff JJ left for him, “I want you to meet him, I think you’d like him.” He looks down at the first folder on the stack, a case he’d agreed to send a preliminary profile for, it wasn’t out of the locals’ hands, but it would help them along. It’s a good distraction.

Haley laughs, but there isn’t any humor behind it, “You think I’d like him.” She crosses the room, and picks up a picture of Jack on his filing cabinet. It's a little old, but he hadn’t had the chance to update it, “What about your son? Would he like Spencer? Is he even  _ safe _ for him to be around?”

“Of course he’s  _ safe. _ ” Hotch rolls his eyes and closes the file, “I know this wasn’t something either of us expected, but please try to remember I’m not a  _ complete _ idiot.”

She’s quiet for a long time; long enough for Hotch to read over the whole file in front of him before she breaks the silence, “I’m trying.”

“I was going to invite you both for dinner, to meet him.” He hadn’t been planning to do it so  _ soon _ , but he had to give a little, Haley was barely hanging on to a very worn string of faith at this point, and they both knew it, “Why don’t we do it tonight? I promise not to cook?”

She cracks a small smile, and Hotch remembers a day when he would’ve been able to coax it into something bigger, that seemed like a very long time ago, “If you cancel this dinner…”

He doesn’t give her a chance to finish the threat, he knows she hates to make them, “I won’t.”

She chews at the inside of her cheek and nods, “Alright. You’re buying.”

Relief floods through Hotch, but he barely gets to bask in it for a moment before his office door pushes open, “Oh. Sorry.”

His eyes fly wide open when he and Haley both turn to see Spencer, new laptop clutched to his chest and eyes flicking between watching Haley nervously and looking to Hotch for guidance - he recognized her from the photo. Haley spoke before anyone else got the chance, “Hi, you’re Spencer?” Her voice was level, emotionless. Hotch was just glad it didn’t seem to scare Spencer, who simply nodded, not making a move to enter, “I’m Haley.”

“I know.” When he talks, he sounds guarded, and he doesn’t take his eyes off her, “Hotch has a photo of you in his apartment.”

“He calls you Hotch?” Haley looks at him, and Hotch shrugs, “Jesus Christ. I’m leaving.”

“Dinner tonight!” He called after her, feigning cheerfulness even while Spencer practically dove out of her way in his effort to avoid her.

When the door clicks shut Hotch breathes out heavily, and goes back behind his desk, Spencer sits up straighter, comfortable now that it was just them, “Is Haley coming for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, and Jack. We’ll pick something up on the way home; is that alright with you?”

“It’s cool.”

Hotch laughs, the casual wording taking him off guard, and reopened the file, “Good. Cool.”

They sat together silently after that, both working. Hotch knew he had a full day's work ahead of him, and he started to question the validity of his new arrangement when Spencer finished his test and started to get antsy. He was restless, a constant moving dot in Hotch’s peripherals flashing back and forth between his computer and the bookshelves, “Spencer.” He stilled, and Hotch sighed, “Results can take up to three days.”

Spencer gaped at him, “ _ Days _ ?”

“They grade a lot of these, and no one reads nearly as fast as you. You have to be patient.”

Spencer looked him square in the face, “I think I’m a bit of an expert on patience.”

“Right.” Hotch grimaced a little, trying his level best to not grin at Spencer’s expression, “You don’t have anything you can do on the computer?”

“It hurts my head.” He was back at the bookshelf now, flicking through the pages of an old textbook - it looked as though he was barely glancing over the pages, Hotch knew he was reading the whole thing, “I’m bored.”

Hotch sighed, “Take some books to the couch and read for a bit.”

Spencer huffed, but did as told, Hotch relaxed into the quiet and let himself get lost in the work.

By lunch, Spencer had finished all the books he hadn’t read yet, and was rereading one of Hotch’s newer books - a memoir by a journalist in Buffalo - she covered murders almost exclusively, and her perspective was interesting, Spencer seemed to like too. He leaned back in his chair and stretched, “Alright, I need a break, are you hungry?”

“Yes!”

Lunch means a trip to the Subway across the street, Spencer mutters his order to Hotch, which he parrots back to the deeply confused teenager working, and they eat the office. He starts to feel a little optimistic, as Spencer, having recently discovered an intense hatred of tomatoes, pulls the slices from his sandwich; it’s not as hard as he’d worried it might be.

This optimism does not last the rest of the day. Spencer had little interest in being stuck in a new room rereading books, and he quickly grew bored once again. Hotch could tell he was trying to keep himself occupied - he gets wrapped up in his computer for another hour, before it irritates his eyes and he has to give it up - but his constant movement from one activity to the next distracts Hotch until he sets his pen down and closes his eyes, “Okay. I give.”

He stands up and Spencer freezes, “Give  _ up _ ?” He sounds terrified, and Hotch shakes his head.

“Not like that, don’t worry.” He rubs his temples and considers the trouble he could get in for this. Really, he’ll only get in trouble if he gets caught, and who was going to tell on him? “I’m going to leave for a few minutes, and I’m going to bring you a box, it’s full of information from an unsolved case. You’ve read all my books, tell me what you think.”

Spencer’s face shifts into one of unrestrained glee, “Okay!”

He slips in and out of storage subtly, and no one he passes so much as raises an eyebrow; the unit chief was never discouraged from referencing old cases. It pulls the crime scene photos from the box before he gives it to Spencer - no need to play with fire - and it does exactly what he needed, keeping Spencer busy for the rest of the day.

It works out so well, in fact, that when Hotch finally finishes and checks the time, he’s shocked to notice his windows are dark and it’s nearing seven-thirty; they were almost late for dinner. He looks to the couch for Spencer, and finds him still looking over the case, half a notepad filled with nearly illegible handwriting, “Find anything?”

“Maybe.” Spencer darts his eyes over his notepad, flipping to the page he wants, “During your last interview with your main suspect, you wrote that he seemed  _ resistant _ . Why’d you use that word?”

Hotch blinked, more surprised that he didn’t expect this than he was about it happening, “Um, let me see it.” He gets up and sits beside Spencer to read, “Right, he was answering my questions, but in one word, two word responses. He was trying to keep quiet.”

“Exactly. You suspected his father was abusing him, but I don’t know, he opened up when you mentioned his father in the second interrogation, it didn’t bother him to talk about him. How many times have I mentioned my mother?” He’s already moving again before Hotch can react, pulling over his laptop and putting in the CD he was looking for.

He yanked the earphones out, dragged the player to the timestamp he wanted, and pressed play, “ _...is there an adult in your life like that, Ben? _ ” The moment comes back to Hotch and he watches as the kid shakes his head, “ _ No. No one.” “Not an uncle, or a family friend?” “No!” “Someone from school, or from a local center like a library? You’re safe here, it’s okay to tell me.”  _ Ben only shakes his head, it had sickened Hotch to interrogate him at all, he was barely eighteen, and clearly an abuse victim, they’d found a journal, recounting the instructions he’d  _ followed _ to kill the four victims they had on file, and three others they found after that. They could never prove it had been his father, even when Ben admitted that his father hurt him, every place they tried to connect him, it just placed him farther away from it, and Ben went to prison alone.

“Did you see that?” Spencer pauses the video just before Hotch mentions his father and they start to get somewhere.

“No, what?”

Spencer rewinds and plays, “Right there, when you mention school, it’s the only time he looks at your face, like you shocked him, and then he stops talking, he just shakes his head.”

“Until I brought up his dad.” Understanding dawns on Hotch and he rubs his hand over his mouth, pulling the video closer, “I gave him an out. I can’t believe I missed this.  _ How _ did we miss this?”

He feels Spencer’s shoulder bump him, “Did I solve it?” He’s grinning from ear to ear, the cat who got the cream, and Hotch fears he’s about to create a monster. He smiles.

“I think… you might have.” It’s all so obvious now, a kid with a bad home like that would spend extra time in the guidance counsellor’s office. A male authority figure like that would be someone he would trust like he’d never been able to before. He’d do anything he asked of him, even if it filled him with regret or remorse, given the right pressures, “Yeah, maybe… wait there.”

He went to his office door and stuck his head out, “Morgan, can you come in here for a minute?”

The rest of the team does the  _ ouu’s  _ and  _ ahh’s _ of a class who just heard their peer getting called to the principal’s office, and Morgan rolls his eyes, getting up, “Pretty boy in there getting tired of you already?” He waggled his eyebrows and it caused a couple snickers, Hotch narrowed his eyes, “I’m  _ kidding _ , what’s up?”

“Do you remember the case we did a little over a year ago, in Nevada, the kid who was killing under direction of an authority figure?” As he talks, he starts picking up the files and papers scattered over Spencer’s space, packing them all away in the evidence box.

“Yeah, yeah, always felt bad for that kid, what was his name?”

“Ben.” He closed the box and walked over, “Look into his guidance counsellor, or any other school staff he could’ve been close to - check for anyone who might have moved after his arrest. And Morgan?” He pushes the box into the other agents hands, glancing briefly over his shoulder at Spencer, “Take the credit.”

Morgan’s eyes dart between Spencer and Hotch, and he nods, smirking, “Why didn’t we think of that?”

“We’re idiots. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He presses the door shut behind him and turns to face Spencer, “It’s time to go home, ready?”

They picked up sushi for dinner - Hotch knew Haley loved it, and it was something new for Spencer to try, and arrived at the apartment only a few minutes before Haley was ringing to be buzzed in.

He opened the door and waited with one foot in the hall, Spencer a few feet behind him and fidgeting; he didn’t pay him too much mind - this was the best part.

The elevator doors opened at the end of the hall, and Hotch crouched down and opened his arms as Jack broke into a full tumbling run, face split out in a smile before he launched himself into Hotch’s arms, “Daddy! We went to school and- and learned about all of, um... the stuff!”

Hotch ruffled his hair and grinned at Jack when he pulled back from the hug, “I can’t wait for you to tell me  _ all  _ about it.” He stood up, frowning when Haley stood outside the door, “I didn’t know you were looking at schools already.”

She shot him a look, “I had to at some point, you’ve got your hands full.” She jerked her chin towards where Spencer stood, watching Jack curiously but not having yet caught his attention while he prattled on about letters of the alphabet and the colors in the rainbow.

Hotch clenched his jaw and forced himself to breathe out slowly through his nose, pasting on a smile that quickly turned genuine as he refocused on his son, “Jack, hey, I want you to meet someone. This is Spencer.” 

Jack pivoted around on unsteady feet, twisting to look at where Spencer stood, “Hi.” He reached up to grab a handful of the hem of Haley’s shirt, shy, “M’Jack.”

Spencer smiled at him and crouched down, “Hi Jack, I’m Spencer, is it okay if I eat dinner with you guys tonight?” It’s clear in his tone - slow and calm, with a hidden tremor underneath - that he’s mimicking the things Hotch does to make him comfortable, and it makes his chest warm with the thought. Jack nods and Spencer smiles and sticks out his hand, “I haven’t been around people a lot, but I read once that you should shake someone’s hand when you meet them.”

Jack cracks a grin and Hotch feels himself do the same, watching them shake hands before he scooped Jack up to rest on his hip, “Okay, let’s get you cleaned up for dinner.” He stops mid step and turns, “Spencer, do you want to help Haley set the table?”

He watches as Spencer shifts from foot to foot nervously, he gives a small nod when Haley offers him a smile, and Hotch is filled with endless gratitude for the effort she never fails to make.

In the bathroom, Jack is stuck waiting while Hotch digs out the little stool he got for the sink, “Mommy said Spencer used to be in trouble but you saved him.” He’s sitting on the toilet lid, swinging his feet without regard for the severity of the situation.

“Yeah,” He pauses to unfold the stool and wave Jack over, “His house wasn’t safe anymore, so I let him come here, what do you think of that?”

They turned on the water and Jack shrugged while loading his palm up with more soap than he could handle, “It’s important to help your friends so… I think it was nice.” He nods stiffly, satisfied with his decision and Hotch smiles.

“Thanks, bud. Here, dry your hands.” He grabs the towel from the wall and waits for Jack to finish before leading them back out to the dining room.

Haley and Spencer were sitting at the table, plates and napkins laid out and plastic containers filled with sushi in the center; Haley was trying to teach Spencer how to use chopsticks - it looked like it may have been the one thing he wasn’t instantly good at, “Okay, who’s hungry?”

-

Despite the anxiety that had been rocking him since Haley and Jack first arrived, Spencer found himself calm and happy by the time dinner was over. He liked sushi, and Jack was interesting to interact with; and even though she spent most of the time looking a little angry, Haley was nice to him too. He let Jack hug him when they left, small arms wrapping around Spencer’s knees and almost taking him off balance, and when the door shuts behind them Hotch sighs, standing there for a long minute with his head down. The smile he had kept on through the whole evening was gone.

He doesn’t want to get in the way of whatever Hotch is doing, so he creeps quietly back to the dining room and puts all the containers into one bag, then gathers the dishes into a pile. He carries both into the kitchen then pauses. He’d only ever passed his mother his garbage or dishes for her to take care of; he’s got a vague idea of the next step - clean the dishes, throw away the garbage - but no idea how to execute it.

That’s how Hotch finds him, and even with exhaustion hanging off his face and the slump of his shoulders, he still smiled and rubbed his hand over Spencer’s arm when he reached him, “Thank you, I can take care of it from here.” He pulls the dishes from Spencer’s hand and starts to put them into a metal box that sits in the cabinets, “Why don’t you start getting ready for bed? It’s getting late, and we’re going to make up the spare room tomorrow, since I won’t have to go to work.”

“Okay.” He goes through the motions of getting ready for bed, and his conversation with Emily comes back to the front of his mind. He wonders how long someone is supposed to wait - he’d like to ask Hotch, but then the question would be irrelevant - but he’s tired of waiting for things, he . When he’s ready for bed he heads back out to look for Hotch, and finds him on the couch with a small glass of something golden brown, “What’s that?”

“Scotch, it’s alcohol.”

“Are we celebrating?”

“No.” Hotch sounded distant, distracted by something, and Spencer tried to go over the things that had happened that evening for a reason; he came up blank, maybe Haley had said something to him.

Spencer didn’t reply, instead, he sat beside Hotch and curled up against his side, settling when Hotch’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, “I met Emily today.”

“Prentiss?” Spencer nodded, that’s what Penelope called her, “What for?”

“I wanted to ask her about something. Or- I asked Penelope, and she told me I should ask Emily. She was nice.” He squirmed around a little, getting nervous - what if they were wrong? What if Hotch could get upset with him? What if he did?

“That’s nice.” Hotch swirled his drink around in his glass, his other hand was matching the circle over Spencer’s sleeve, “What did you talk about?”

He thought about what  Emily had said, he didn’t have to tell him right away; but then he remembered the other thing she told him -  _ You’ll be so happy, you won’t even remember what it’s like to feel any other way. _ \- what would that be like? “When I was, um, before you found me, some of my books were love stories.” Hotch stiffened a little, and Spencer did the same, “I just read whatever Mother gave me, I um, sorry.” He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts, “I asked her if there was ever a time when a man fell in love with a man, instead of a woman.” He paused there, waiting for Hotch’s reaction.

“Okay.” Hotch sounds tense, and Spencer knows he’s trying to push him on, but it’s so hard to tell what he wants to hear, he doesn’t like the unstable feeling it gives him.

“She said yes, that it was normal.” Hotch rubs his arm a little and Spencer dares to look at his face, he’s looking right back at him, “I told her I wanted to know because of you.”

“What do you mean?” He’s holding his breath, and his voice is tight, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, it feels like he’s pulling Spencer closer.

“In the books, the people who were in love would do things. They would hold hands, or sit close, or- or kiss-” His voice catches, and he looks down, “I want to do those things with you.”

Hotch clears his throat, and Spencer looks up, making a soft  _ oh _ when Hotch’s face is close to his own, “Let me try something, alright?” Spencer nods quickly, and Hotch reaches without looking to set his glass on the table. He brings his hand back and it cups Spencer’s cheek, and he tilts his head to lean into it, eyes falling shut; things are still and quiet for a moment, and then, something soft and warm brushes his lips, Hotch’s mouth, kissing him. 

He freezes up, unsure of what he’s supposed to do, and Hotch waits, hovering there with barely a breath between them, thumb rubbing slowly back and forth across Spencer’s cheek. As he relaxes, he gets braver, pushing up and against Hotch’s lips for a moment, he pulls back and opens his eyes, and Hotch has a small smile on his face, his eyes look soft, and kind, and Spencer grins back.

Emily was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hotch: i must never admit my feelings for spencer, they could destroy him  
> spencer: hotch i realized this morning i might be falling in love with u will u kiss me  
> hotch: oh mwah mwah mwah
> 
> i also just wanna say that the feedback ive been getting on this fic has been SO lovely its really driving me to just spend all of my free time writing alkhdslfkdj you're all so kind I can't thank you enough!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed!! :^)


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